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John Keats - "John Keats"

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At last they started for her father's house.

"Look at the moon," said he.

"It's the sun," said Katharine, and indeed it was.

"I say it is the moon. Contradicting again! It shall be sun or
moon, or whatever I choose, or I won't take you to your
father's."

Then Katharine gave in, once and for all. "What you will have it
named," she said, "it is, and so it shall be so for Katharine."
And so it was, for from that moment Katharine felt that she had
met her master, and never again showed her naughty tempers to him,
or anyone else.

So they journeyed on to Baptista's house, and arriving there, they
found all folks keeping Bianca's wedding feast, and that of another
newly married couple, Hortensio and his wife. They were made
welcome, and sat down to the feast, and all was merry, save that
Hortensio's wife, seeing Katharine subdued to her husband, thought
she could safely say many disagreeable things, that in the old
days, when Katharine was free and froward, she would not have
dared to say. But Katharine answered with such spirit and such
moderation, that she turned the laugh against the new bride.

After dinner, when the ladies had retired, Baptista joined in a
laugh against Petruchio, saying "Now in good sadness, son Petruchio,
I fear you have got the veriest shrew of all."

"You are wrong," said Petruchio, "let me prove it to you. Each of
us shall send a message to his wife, desiring her to come to him,
and the one whose wife comes most readily shall win a wager which
we will agree on."

The others said yes readily enough, for each thought his own wife
the most dutiful, and each thought he was quite sure to win the
wager.

They proposed a wager of twenty crowns.

"Twenty crowns," said Petruchio, "I'll venture so much on my hawk
or hound, but twenty times as much upon my wife."

"A hundred then," cried Lucentio, Bianca's husband.

"Content," cried the others.

Then Lucentio sent a message to the fair Bianca bidding her to come
to him. And Baptista said he was certain his daughter would come.
But the servant coming back, said--

"Sir, my mistress is busy, and she cannot come."'

"There's an answer for you," said Petruchio.

"You may think yourself fortunate if your wife does not send you
a worse."

"I hope, better," Petruchio answered. Then Hortensio said--

"Go and entreat my wife to come to me at once."

"Oh--if you entreat her," said Petruchio.

"I am afraid," answered Hortensio, sharply, "do what you can, yours
will not be entreated."

But now the servant came in, and said--

"She says you are playing some jest, she will not come."

"Better and better," cried Petruchio; "now go to your mistress and
say I command her to come to me."

They all began to laugh, saying they knew what her answer would
be, and that she would not come.

Then suddenly Baptista cried--

"Here comes Katharine!" And sure enough--there she was.

"What do you wish, sir?" she asked her husband.

"Where are your sister and Hortensio's wife?"

"Talking by the parlor fire."

"Fetch them here."

When she was gone to fetch them, Lucentio said--

"Here is a wonder!"

"I wonder what it means," said Hortensio.

"It means peace," said Petruchio, "and love, and quiet life."

"Well," said Baptista, "you have won the wager, and I will add
another twenty thousand crowns to her dowry--another dowry for
another daughter--for she is as changed as if she were someone
else."

So Petruchio won his wager, and had in Katharine always a loving
wife and true, and now he had broken her proud and angry spirit
he loved her well, and there was nothing ever but love between
those two. And so they lived happy ever afterwards.




MEASURE FOR MEASURE



More centuries ago than I care to say, the people of Vienna were
governed too mildly. The reason was that the reigning Duke Vicentio
was excessively good-natured, and disliked to see offenders made
unhappy.

The consequence was that the number of ill-behaved persons in Vienna
was enough to make the Duke shake his head in sorrow when his
chief secretary showed him it at the end of a list. He decided,
therefore, that wrongdoers must be punished. But popularity was
dear to him. He knew that, if he were suddenly strict after being
lax, he would cause people to call him a tyrant. For this reason
he told his Privy Council that he must go to Poland on important
business of state. "I have chosen Angelo to rule in my absence,"
said he.

Now this Angelo, although he appeared to be noble, was really a
mean man. He had promised to marry a girl called Mariana, and
now would have nothing to say to her, because her dowry had been
lost. So poor Mariana lived forlornly, waiting every day for the
footstep of her stingy lover, and loving him still.

Having appointed Angelo his deputy, the Duke went to a friar called
Thomas and asked him for a friar's dress and instruction in the
art of giving religious counsel, for he did not intend to go to
Poland, but to stay at home and see how Angelo governed.

Angelo had not been a day in office when he condemned to death a
young man named Claudio for an act of rash selfishness which
nowadays would only be punished by severe reproof.

Claudio had a queer friend called Lucio, and Lucio saw a chance of
freedom for Claudio if Claudio's beautiful sister Isabella would
plead with Angelo.

Isabella was at that time living in a nunnery. Nobody had won her
heart, and she thought she would like to become a sister, or nun.

Meanwhile Claudio did not lack an advocate.

An ancient lord, Escalus, was for leniency. "Let us cut a little,
but not kill," he said. "This gentleman had a most noble father."

Angelo was unmoved. "If twelve men find me guilty, I ask no more
mercy than is in the law."

Angelo then ordered the Provost to see that Claudio was executed
at nine the next morning.

After the issue of this order Angelo was told that the sister of
the condemned man desired to see him.

"Admit her," said Angelo.

On entering with Lucio, the beautiful girl said, "I am a woeful
suitor to your Honor."

"Well?" said Angelo.

She colored at his chill monosyllable and the ascending red increased
the beauty of her face. "I have a brother who is condemned to
die," she continued. "Condemn the fault, I pray you, and spare
my brother."

"Every fault," said Angelo, "is condemned before it is committed.
A fault cannot suffer. Justice would be void if the committer
of a fault went free."

She would have left the court if Lucio had not whispered to her,
"You are too cold; you could not speak more tamely if you wanted
a pin."

So Isabella attacked Angelo again, and when he said, "I will not
pardon him," she was not discouraged, and when he said, "He's
sentenced; 'tis too late," she returned to the assult. But all
her fighting was with reasons, and with reasons she could not
prevail over the Deputy.

She told him that nothing becomes power like mercy. She told him
that humanity receives and requires mercy from Heaven, that it
was good to have gigantic strength, and had to use it like a giant.
She told him that lightning rives the oak and spares the myrtle.
She bade him look for fault in his own breast, and if he found
one, to refrain from making it an argument against her brother's
life.

Angelo found a fault in his breast at that moment. He loved
Isabella's beauty, and was tempted to do for her beauty what he
would not do for the love of man.

He appeared to relent, for he said, "Come to me to-morrow before
noon."

She had, at any rate, succeeded in prolonging her brother's life
for a few hours.'

In her absence Angelo's conscience rebuked him for trifling with
his judicial duty.

When Isabella called on him the second time, he said, "Your brother
cannot live."

Isabella was painfully astonished, but all she said was, "Even so.
Heaven keep your Honor."

But as she turned to go, Angelo felt that his duty and honor were
slight in comparison with the loss of her.

"Give me your love," he said, "and Claudio shall be freed."

"Before I would marry you, he should die if he had twenty heads to
lay upon the block," said Isabella, for she saw then that he was
not the just man he pretended to be.

So she went to her brother in prison, to inform him that he must
die. At first he was boastful, and promised to hug the darkness
of death. But when he clearly understood that his sister could
buy his life by marrying Angelo, he felt his life more valuable
than her happiness, and he exclaimed, "Sweet sister, let me live."

"O faithless coward! O dishonest wretch!" she cried.

At this moment the Duke came forward, in the habit of a friar, to
request some speech with Isabella. He called himself Friar
Lodowick.

The Duke then told her that Angelo was affianced to Mariana, whose
love-story he related. He then asked her to consider this plan.
Let Mariana, in the dress of Isabella, go closely veiled to
Angelo, and say, in a voice resembling Isabella's, that if Claudio
were spared she would marry him. Let her take the ring from
Angelo's little finger, that it might be afterwards proved that
his visitor was Mariana.

Isabella had, of course, a great respect for friars, who are as
nearly like nuns as men can be. She agreed, therefore, to the
Duke's plan. They were to meet again at the moated grange,
Mariana's house.

In the street the Duke saw Lucio, who, seeing a man dressed like
a friar, called out, "What news of the Duke, friar?" "I have none,"
said the Duke.

Lucio then told the Duke some stories about Angelo. Then he told
one about the Duke. The Duke contradicted him. Lucio was provoked,
and called the Duke "a shallow, ignorant fool," though he pretended
to love him. "The Duke shall know you better if I live to report
you," said the Duke, grimly. Then he asked Escalus, whom he saw
in the street, what he thought of his ducal master. Escalus, who
imagined he was speaking to a friar, replied, "The Duke is a very
temperate gentleman, who prefers to see another merry to being
merry himself."

The Duke then proceeded to call on Mariana.

Isabella arrived immediately afterwards, and the Duke introduced
the two girls to one another, both of whom thought he was a friar.
They went into a chamber apart from him to discuss the saving of
Claudio, and while they talked in low and earnest tones, the Duke
looked out of the window and saw the broken sheds and flower-beds
black with moss, which betrayed Mariana's indifference to her
country dwelling. Some women would have beautified their garden:
not she. She was for the town; she neglected the joys of the
country. He was sure that Angelo would not make her unhappier.

"We are agreed, father," said Isabella, as she returned with Mariana.

So Angelo was deceived by the girl whom he had dismissed from his
love, and put on her finger a ring he wore, in which was set a
milky stone which flashed in the light with secret colors.

Hearing of her success, the Duke went next day to the prison prepared
to learn that an order had arrived for Claudio's release. It had
not, however, but a letter was banded to the Provost while he
waited. His amazement was great when the Provost read aloud these
words, "Whatsoever you may hear to the contrary, let Claudio be
executed by four of the clock. Let me have his head sent me by
five."

But the Duke said to the Provost, "You must show the Deputy another
head," and he held out a letter and a signet. "Here," he said,
"are the hand and seal of the Duke. He is to return, I tell you,
and Angelo knows it not. Give Angelo another head."

The Provost thought, "This friar speaks with power. I know the
Duke's signet and I know his hand."

He said at length, "A man died in prison this morning, a pirate of
the age of Claudio, with a beard of his color. I will show his
head."

The pirate's head was duly shown to Angelo, who was deceived by
its resemblance to Claudio's.

The Duke's return was so popular that the citizens removed the city
gates from their hinges to assist his entry into Vienna. Angelo
and Escalus duly presented themselves, and were profusely praised
for their conduct of affairs in the Duke's absence.

It was, therefore, the more unpleasant for Angelo when Isabella,
passionately angered by his treachery, knelt before the Duke, and
cried for justice.

When her story was told, the Duke cried, "To prison with her for
a slanderer of our right hand! But stay, who persuaded you to come
here?"

"Friar Lodowick," said she.

"Who knows him?" inquired the Duke.

"I do, my lord," replied Lucio. "I beat him because he spake
against your Grace."

A friar called Peter here said, "Friar Lodowick is a holy man."

Isabella was removed by an officer, and Mariana came forward. She
took off her veil, and said to Angelo, "This is the face you once
swore was worth looking on."

Bravely he faced her as she put out her hand and said, "This is
the hand which wears the ring you thought to give another."

"I know the woman," said Angelo. "Once there was talk of marriage
between us, but I found her frivolous."

Mariana here burst out that they were affianced by the strongest
vows. Angelo replied by asking the Duke to insist on the production
of Friar Lodowick.

"He shall appear," promised the Duke, and bade Escalus examine the
missing witness thoroughly while he was elsewhere.

Presently the Duke re-appeared in the character of Friar Lodowick,
and accompanied by Isabella and the Provost. He was not so much
examined as abused and threatened by Escalus. Lucio asked him to
deny, if he dared, that he called the Duke a fool and a coward,
and had had his nose pulled for his impudence.

"To prison with him!" shouted Escalus, but as hands were laid upon
him, the Duke pulled off his friar's hood, and was a Duke before
them all.

"Now," he said to Angelo, "if you have any impudence that can yet
serve you, work it for all it's worth."

"Immediate sentence and death is all I beg," was the reply.

"Were you affianced to Mariana?" asked the Duke.

"I was," said Angelo.

"Then marry her instantly," said his master. "Marry them," he said
to Friar Peter, "and return with them here."

"Come hither, Isabel," said the Duke, in tender tones. "Your friar
is now your Prince, and grieves he was too late to save your
brother;" but well the roguish Duke knew he had saved him.

"O pardon me," she cried, "that I employed my Sovereign in my
trouble."

"You are pardoned," he said, gaily.

At that moment Angelo and his wife re-entered. "And now, Angelo,"
said the Duke, gravely, "we condemn thee to the block on which
Claudio laid his head!"

"O my most gracious lord," cried Mariana, "mock me not!"

"You shall buy a better husband," said the Duke.

"O my dear lord," said she, "I crave no better man."

Isabella nobly added her prayer to Mariana's, but the Duke feigned
inflexibility.

"Provost," he said, "how came it that Claudio as executed at an
unusual hour?"

Afraid to confess the lie he had imposed upon Angelo, the Provost
said, "I had a private message."

"You are discharged from your office," said the Duke. The Provost
then departed. Angelo said, "I am sorry to have caused such
sorrow. I prefer death to mercy." Soon there was a motion in
the crowd. The Provost re-appeared with Claudio. Like a big
child the Provost said, "I saved this man; he is like Claudio."
The Duke was amused, and said to Isabella, "I pardon him because
he is like your brother. He is like my brother, too, if you, dear
Isabel, will be mine."

She was his with a smile, and the Duke forgave Angelo, and promoted
the Provost.

Lucio he condemned to marry a stout woman with a bitter tongue.




TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA



Only one of them was really a gentleman, as you will discover later.
Their names were Valentine and Proteus. They were friends, and
lived at Verona, a town in northern Italy. Valentine was happy
in his name because it was that of the patron saint of lovers; it
is hard for a Valentine to be fickle or mean. Proteus was unhappy
in his name, because it was that of a famous shape-changer, and
therefore it encouraged him to be a lover at one time and a traitor
at another.

One day, Valentine told his friend that he was going to Milan.
"I'm not in love like you," said he, "and therefore I don't want
to stay at home."

Proteus was in love with a beautiful yellow-haired girl called
Julia, who was rich, and had no one to order her about. He was,
however, sorry to part from Valentine, and he said, "If ever you
are in danger tell me, and I will pray for you." Valentine then
went to Milan with a servant called Speed, and at Milan he fell
in love with the Duke of Milan's daughter, Silvia.

When Proteus and Valentine parted Julia had not acknowledged that
she loved Proteus. Indeed, she had actually torn up one of his
letters in the presence of her maid, Lucetta. Lucetta, however,
was no simpleton, for when she saw the pieces she said to herself,
"All she wants is to be annoyed by another letter." Indeed, no
sooner had Lucetta left her alone than Julia repented of her
tearing, and placed between her dress and her heart the torn piece
of paper on which Proteus had signed his name. So by tearing a
letter written by Proteus she discovered that she loved him.
Then, like a brave, sweet girl, she wrote to Proteus, "Be patient,
and you shall marry me."

Delighted with these words Proteus walked about, flourishing Julia's
letter and talking to himself.

"What have you got there?" asked his father, Antonio.

"A letter from Valentine," fibbed Proteus.

"Let me read it," said Antonio.

"There is no news," said deceitful Proteus; "he only says that he
is very happy, and the Duke of Milan is kind to him, and that he
wishes I were with him."

This fib had the effect of making Antonio think that his son should
go to Milan and enjoy the favors in which Valentine basked. "You
must go to-morrow," he decreed. Proteus was dismayed. "Give me
time to get my outfit ready." He was met with the promise, "What
you need shall be sent after you."

It grieved Julia to part from her lover before their engagement
was two days' old. She gave him a ring, and said, "Keep this for
my sake," and he gave her a ring, and they kissed like two who
intend to be true till death. Then Proteus departed for Milan.

Meanwhile Valentine was amusing Silvia, whose grey eyes, laughing
at him under auburn hair, had drowned him in love. One day she
told him that she wanted to write a pretty letter to a gentleman
whom she thought well of, but had no time: would he write it? Very
much did Valentine dislike writing that letter, but he did write
it, and gave it to her coldly. "Take it back," she said; "you
did it unwillingly."

"Madam," he said, "it was difficult to write such a letter for
you."

"Take it back," she commanded; "you did not write tenderly enough."

Valentine was left with the letter, and condemned to write another;
but his servant Speed saw that, in effect, the Lady Silvia had
allowed Valentine to write for her a love-letter to Valentine's
own self. "The joke," he said, "is as invisible as a weather-cock
on a steeple." He meant that it was very plain; and he went on
to say exactly what it was: "If master will write her love-letters,
he must answer them."

On the arrival of Proteus, he was introduced by Valentine to Silvia
and afterwards, when they were alone, Valentine asked Proteus how
his love for Julia was prospering.

"Why," said Proteus, "you used to get wearied when I spoke of her."

"Aye," confessed Valentine, "but it's different now. I can eat
and drink all day with nothing but love on my plate and love in
my cup."

"You idolize Silvia," said Proteus.

"She is divine," said Valentine.

"Come, come!" remonstrated Proteus.

"Well, if she's not divine," said Valentine, "she is the queen of
all women on earth."

"Except Julia," said Proteus.

"Dear boy," said Valentine, "Julia is not excepted; but I will
grant that she alone is worthy to bear my lady's train."

"Your bragging astounds me," said Proteus.

But he had seen Silvia, and he felt suddenly that the yellow-haired
Julia was black in comparison. He became in thought a villain
without delay, and said to himself what he had never said before--"I
to myself am dearer than my friend."

It would have been convenient for Valentine if Proteus had changed,
by the power of the god whose name he bore, the shape of his body
at the evil moment when he despised Julia in admiring Silvia.
But his body did not change; his smile was still affectionate,
and Valentine confided to him the great secret that Silvia had
now promised to run away with him. "In the pocket of this cloak,"
said Valentine, "I have a silken rope ladder, with hooks which
will clasp the window-bar of her room."

Proteus knew the reason why Silvia and her lover were bent on
flight. The Duke intended her to wed Sir Thurio, a gentlemanly
noodle for whom she did not care a straw.

Proteus thought that if he could get rid of Valentine he might make
Silvia fond of him, especially if the Duke insisted on her enduring
Sir Thurio's tiresome chatter. He therefore went to the Duke,
and said, "Duty before friendship! It grieves me to thwart my
friend Valentine, but your Grace should know that he intends
to-night to elope with your Grace's daughter." He begged the Duke
not to tell Valentine the giver of this information, and the Duke
assured him that his name would not be divulged.

Early that evening the Duke summoned Valentine, who came to him
wearing a large cloak with a bulging pocket.

"You know," said the Duke, "my desire to marry my daughter to Sir
Thurio?"

"I do," replied Valentine. "He is virtuous and generous, as befits
a man so honored in your Grace's thoughts."

"Nevertheless she dislikes him," said the Duke. "She is a peevish,
proud, disobedient girl, and I should be sorry to leave her a
penny. I intend, therefore, to marry again."

Valentine bowed.

"I hardly know how the young people of to-day make love," continued
the Duke, "and I thought that you would be just the man to teach
me how to win the lady of my choice."

"Jewels have been known to plead rather well," said Valentine.

"I have tried them," said the Duke.

"The habit of liking the giver may grow if your Grace gives her
some more."

"The chief difficulty," pursued the Duke, "is this. The lady is
promised to a young gentleman, and it is hard to have a word with
her. She is, in fact, locked up."

"Then your Grace should propose an elopement," said Valentine.
"Try a rope ladder."

"But how should I carry it?" asked the Duke.

"A rope ladder is light," said Valentine; "You can carry it in a
cloak."

"Like yours?"

"Yes, your Grace."

"Then yours will do. Kindly lend it to me."

Valentine had talked himself into a trap. He could not refuse to
lend his cloak, and when the Duke had donned it, his Grace drew
from the pocket a sealed missive addressed to Silvia. He coolly
opened it, and read these words: "Silvia, you shall be free
to-night."

"Indeed," he said, "and here's the rope ladder. Prettily contrived,
but not perfectly. I give you, sir, a day to leave my dominions.
If you are in Milan by this time to-morrow, you die."

Poor Valentine was saddened to the core. "Unless I look on Silvia
in the day," he said, "there is no day for me to look upon."

Before he went he took farewell of Proteus, who proved a hypocrite
of the first order. "Hope is a lover's staff," said Valentine's
betrayer; "walk hence with that."

After leaving Milan, Valentine and his servant wandered into a
forest near Mantua where the great poet Virgil lived. In the
forest, however, the poets (if any) were brigands, who bade the
travelers stand. They obeyed, and Valentine made so good an
impression upon his captors that they offered him his life on
condition that he became their captain.

"I accept," said Valentine, "provided you release my servant, and
are not violent to women or the poor."

The reply was worthy of Virgil, and Valentine became a brigand
chief.

We return now to Julia, who found Verona too dull to live in since
Proteus had gone. She begged her maid Lucetta to devise a way by
which she could see him. "Better wait for him to return," said
Lucetta, and she talked so sensibly that Julia saw it was idle to
hope that Lucetta would bear the blame of any rash and interesting
adventure. Julia therefore said that she intended to go to Milan
and dressed like a page.

"You must cut off your hair then," said Lucetta, who thought that
at this announcement Julia would immediately abandon her scheme.

"I shall knot it up," was the disappointing rejoinder.

Lucetta then tried to make the scheme seem foolish to Julia, but
Julia had made up her mind and was not to be put off by ridicule;
and when her toilet was completed, she looked as comely a page as
one could wish to see.

Julia assumed the male name Sebastian, and arrived in Milan in time
to hear music being performed outside the Duke's palace.

"They are serenading the Lady Silvia," said a man to her.

Suddenly she heard a voice lifted in song, and she knew that voice.
It was the voice of Proteus. But what was he singing?

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