Tales from Shakespeare

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TALES FROM SHAKESPEARE

By CHARLES & MARY LAMB

ILLUSTRATED BY ARTHUR RACKHAM

_WEATHERVANE BOOKS NEW YORK_

Copyright (C) MCMLXXV by Crown Publishers, Inc.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 75-18860

All rights reserved.

This edition is published by Weathervane Books, a division of Barre
Publishing Company, Inc.

Manufactured in the United States of America

PREFACE

The following Tales are meant to be submitted to the young reader as an
introduction to the study of Shakespeare, for which purpose his words
are used whenever it seemed possible to bring them in; and in whatever
has been added to give them the regular form of a connected story,
diligent care has been taken to select such words as might least
interrupt the effect of the beautiful English tongue in which he wrote:
therefore, words introduced into our language since his time have been
as far as possible avoided.

In those tales which have been taken from the Tragedies, the young
readers will perceive, when they come to see the source from which these
stories are derived, that Shakespeare's own words, with little
alteration, recur very frequently in the narrative as well as in the
dialogue; but in those made from the Comedies the writers found
themselves scarcely ever able to turn his words into the narrative form:
therefore it is feared that, in them, dialogue has been made use of too
frequently for young people not accustomed to the dramatic form of
writing. But this fault, if it be a fault, has been caused by an earnest
wish to give as much of Shakespeare's own words as possible: and if the
"_He said_," and "_She said_," the question and the reply, should
sometimes seem tedious to their young ears, they must pardon it, because
it was the only way in which could be given to them a few hints and
little foretastes of the great pleasure which awaits them in their elder
years, when they come to the rich treasures from which these small and
valueless coins are extracted; pretending to no other merit than as
faint and imperfect stamps of Shakespeare's matchless image. Faint and
imperfect images they must be called, because the beauty of his language
is too frequently destroyed by the necessity of changing many of his
excellent words into words far less expressive of his true sense, to
make it read something like prose; and even in some few places, where
his blank verse is given unaltered, as hoping from its simple plainness
to cheat the young readers into the belief that they are reading prose,
yet still his language being transplanted from its own natural soil and
wild poetic garden, it must want much of its native beauty.

It has been wished to make these Tales easy reading for very young
children. To the utmost of their ability the writers have constantly
kept this in mind; but the subjects of most of them made this a very
difficult task. It was no easy matter to give the histories of men and
women in terms familiar to the apprehension of a very young mind. For
young ladies too, it has been the intention chiefly to write; because
boys being generally permitted the use of their fathers' libraries at a
much earlier age than girls are, they frequently have the best scenes of
Shakespeare by heart, before their sisters are permitted to look into
this manly book; and, therefore, instead of recommending these Tales to
the perusal of young gentlemen who can read them so much better in the
originals, their kind assistance is rather requested in explaining to
their sisters such parts as are hardest for them to understand: and when
they have helped them to get over the difficulties, then perhaps they
will read to them (carefully selecting what is proper for a young
sister's ear) some passage which has pleased them in one of these
stories, in the very words of the scene from which it is taken; and it
is hoped they will find that the beautiful extracts, the select
passages, they may choose to give their sisters in this way will be much
better relished and understood from their having some notion of the
general story from one of these imperfect abridgments;--which if they
be fortunately so done as to prove delightful to any of the young
readers, it is hoped that no worse effect will result than to make them
wish themselves a little older, that they may be allowed to read the
Plays at full length (such a wish will be neither peevish nor
irrational). When time and leave of judicious friends shall put them
into their hands, they will discover in such of them as are here
abridged (not to mention almost as many more, which are left untouched)
many surprising events and turns of fortune, which for their infinite
variety could not be contained in this little book, besides a world of
sprightly and cheerful characters, both men and women, the humour of
which it was feared would be lost if it were attempted to reduce the
length of them.

What these Tales shall have been to the _young_ readers, that and much
more it is the writers' wish that the true Plays of Shakespeare may
prove to them in older years--enrichers of the fancy, strengtheners of
virtue, a withdrawing from all selfish and mercenary thoughts, a lesson
of all sweet and honourable thoughts and actions, to teach courtesy,
benignity, generosity, humanity: for of examples, teaching these
virtues, his pages are full.

CONTENTS

PAGE

THE TEMPEST 1

A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM 14

THE WINTER'S TALE 27

MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 39

AS YOU LIKE IT 53

THE TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA 71

THE MERCHANT OF VENICE 85

CYMBELINE 102

KING LEAR 117

MACBETH 136

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 148

THE TAMING OF THE SHREW 162

THE COMEDY OF ERRORS 174

MEASURE FOR MEASURE 190

TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL 206

TIMON OF ATHENS 221

ROMEO AND JULIET 236

HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK 255

OTHELLO 272

PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE 287

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PERDITA

WHEN CALIBAN WAS LAZY AND NEGLECTED HIS WORK,
ARIEL WOULD COME SLILY AND PINCH HIM

WHERE IS PEASE-BLOSSOM?

PAULINA DREW BACK THE CURTAIN WHICH CONCEALED
THIS FAMOUS STATUE

GANYMEDE ASSUMED THE FORWARD MANNERS OFTEN
SEEN IN YOUTHS WHEN THEY ARE BETWEEN BOYS
AND MEN

IMOGEN'S TWO BROTHERS THEN CARRIED HER TO A
SHADY COVERT

CORDELIA

THEY WERE STOPPED BY THE STRANGE APPEARANCE
OF THREE FIGURES

PETRUCHIO, PRETENDING TO FIND FAULT WITH EVERY
DISH, THREW THE MEAT ABOUT THE FLOOR

SHE BEGAN TO THINK OF CONFESSING THAT SHE WAS
A WOMAN

AT THE CELL OF FRIAR LAWRENCE

TO THIS BROOK OPHELIA CAME

[Illustration]

THE TEMPEST

There was a certain island in the sea, the only inhabitants of which
were an old man, whose name was Prospero, and his daughter Miranda, a
very beautiful young lady. She came to this island so young, that she
had no memory of having seen any other human face than her father's.

They lived in a cave or cell, made out of a rock; it was divided into
several apartments, one of which Prospero called his study; there he
kept his books, which chiefly treated of magic, a study at that time
much affected by all learned men: and the knowledge of this art he found
very useful to him; for being thrown by a strange chance upon this
island, which had been enchanted by a witch called Sycorax, who died
there a short time before his arrival, Prospero, by virtue of his art,
released many good spirits that Sycorax had imprisoned in the bodies of
large trees, because they had refused to execute her wicked commands.
These gentle spirits were ever after obedient to the will of Prospero.
Of these Ariel was the chief.

[Illustration: WHEN CALIBAN WAS LAZY AND NEGLECTED HIS WORK, ARIEL WOULD
COME SLILY AND PINCH HIM]

The lively little sprite Ariel had nothing mischievous in his nature,
except that he took rather too much pleasure in tormenting an ugly
monster called Caliban, for he owed him a grudge because he was the son
of his old enemy Sycorax. This Caliban, Prospero found in the woods, a
strange misshapen thing, far less human in form than an ape: he took him
home to his cell, and taught him to speak; and Prospero would have been
very kind to him, but the bad nature which Caliban inherited from his
mother Sycorax, would not let him learn anything good or useful:
therefore he was employed like a slave, to fetch wood, and do the most
laborious offices; and Ariel had the charge of compelling him to these
services.

When Caliban was lazy and neglected his work, Ariel (who was invisible
to all eyes but Prospero's) would come slily and pinch him, and
sometimes tumble him down in the mire; and then Ariel, in the likeness
of an ape, would make mouths at him. Then swiftly changing his shape, in
the likeness of a hedgehog, he would lie tumbling in Caliban's way, who
feared the hedgehog's sharp quills would prick his bare feet. With a
variety of such-like vexatious tricks Ariel would often torment him,
whenever Caliban neglected the work which Prospero commanded him to do.

Having these powerful spirits obedient to his will, Prospero could by
their means command the winds, and the waves of the sea. By his orders
they raised a violent storm, in the midst of which, and struggling with
the wild sea-waves that every moment threatened to swallow it up, he
showed his daughter a fine large ship, which he told her was full of
living beings like themselves. "O my dear father," said she, "if by your
art you have raised this dreadful storm, have pity on their sad
distress. See! the vessel will be dashed to pieces. Poor souls! they
will all perish. If I had power, I would sink the sea beneath the earth,
rather than the good ship should be destroyed, with all the precious
souls within her."

"Be not so amazed, daughter Miranda," said Prospero; "there is no harm
done. I have so ordered it, that no person in the ship shall receive any
hurt. What I have done has been in care of you, my dear child. You are
ignorant who you are, or where you came from, and you know no more of
me, but that I am your father, and live in this poor cave. Can you
remember a time before you came to this cell? I think you cannot, for
you were not then three years of age."

"Certainly I can, sir," replied Miranda.

"By what?" asked Prospero; "by any other house or person? Tell me what
you can remember, my child."

Miranda said, "It seems to me like the recollection of a dream. But had
I not once four or five women who attended upon me?"

Prospero answered, "You had, and more. How is it that this still lives
in your mind? Do you remember how you came here?"

"No, sir," said Miranda, "I remember nothing more."

"Twelve years ago, Miranda," continued Prospero, "I was Duke of Milan,
and you were a princess, and my only heir. I had a younger brother,
whose name was Antonio, to whom I trusted everything; and as I was fond
of retirement and deep study, I commonly left the management of my state
affairs to your uncle, my false brother (for so indeed he proved). I,
neglecting all worldly ends, buried among my books, did dedicate my
whole time to the bettering of my mind. My brother Antonio being thus in
possession of my power, began to think himself the duke indeed. The
opportunity I gave him of making himself popular among my subjects
awakened in his bad nature a proud ambition to deprive me of my dukedom:
this he soon effected with the aid of the King of Naples, a powerful
prince, who was my enemy."

"Wherefore," said Miranda, "did they not that hour destroy us?"

"My child," answered her father, "they durst not, so dear was the love
that my people bore me. Antonio carried us on board a ship, and when we
were some leagues out at sea, he forced us into a small boat, without
either tackle, sail, or mast: there he left us, as he thought, to
perish. But a kind lord of my court, one Gonzalo, who loved me, had
privately placed in the boat, water, provisions, apparel, and some books
which I prize above my dukedom."

"O my father," said Miranda, "what a trouble must I have been to you
then!"

"No, my love," said Prospero, "you were a little cherub that did
preserve me. Your innocent smiles made me bear up against my
misfortunes. Our food lasted till we landed on this desert island, since
when my chief delight has been in teaching you, Miranda, and well have
you profited by my instructions."

"Heaven thank you, my dear father," said Miranda. "Now pray tell me,
sir, your reason for raising this sea-storm?"

"Know then," said her father, "that by means of this storm, my enemies,
the King of Naples, and my cruel brother, are cast ashore upon this
island."

Having so said, Prospero gently touched his daughter with his magic
wand, and she fell fast asleep; for the spirit Ariel just then presented
himself before his master, to give an account of the tempest, and how he
had disposed of the ship's company, and though the spirits were always
invisible to Miranda, Prospero did not choose she should hear him
holding converse (as would seem to her) with the empty air.

"Well, my brave spirit," said Prospero to Ariel, "how have you performed
your task?"

Ariel gave a lively description of the storm, and of the terrors of the
mariners; and how the king's son, Ferdinand, was the first who leaped
into the sea; and his father thought he saw his dear son swallowed up by
the waves and lost. "But he is safe," said Ariel, "in a corner of the
isle, sitting with his arms folded, sadly lamenting the loss of the
king, his father, whom he concludes drowned. Not a hair of his head is
injured, and his princely garments, though drenched in the sea-waves,
look fresher than before."

"That's my delicate Ariel," said Prospero. "Bring him hither: my
daughter must see this young prince. Where is the king, and my brother?"

"I left them," answered Ariel, "searching for Ferdinand, whom they have
little hopes of finding, thinking they saw him perish. Of the ship's
crew not one is missing; though each one thinks himself the only one
saved: and the ship, though invisible to them, is safe in the harbour."

"Ariel," said Prospero, "thy charge is faithfully performed: but there
is more work yet."

"Is there more work?" said Ariel. "Let me remind you, master, you have
promised me my liberty. I pray, remember, I have done you worthy
service, told you no lies, made no mistakes, served you without grudge
or grumbling."

"How now!" said Prospero. "You do not recollect what a torment I freed
you from. Have you forgot the wicked witch Sycorax, who with age and
envy was almost bent double? Where was she born? Speak; tell me."

"Sir, in Algiers," said Ariel.

"O was she so?" said Prospero. "I must recount what you have been, which
I find you do not remember. This bad witch, Sycorax, for her
witch-crafts, too terrible to enter human hearing, was banished from
Algiers, and here left by the sailors; and because you were a spirit too
delicate to execute her wicked commands, she shut you up in a tree,
where I found you howling. This torment, remember, I did free you from."

"Pardon me, dear master," said Ariel, ashamed to seem ungrateful; "I
will obey your commands."

"Do so," said Prospero, "and I will set you free." He then gave orders
what further he would have him do; and away went Ariel, first to where
he had left Ferdinand, and found him still sitting on the grass in the
same melancholy posture.

"O my young gentleman," said Ariel, when he saw him, "I will soon move
you. You must be brought, I find, for the Lady Miranda to have a sight
of your pretty person. Come, sir, follow me." He then began singing,

"Full fathom five thy father lies:
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them,--Ding-dong, bell."

This strange news of his lost father soon roused the prince from the
stupid fit into which he had fallen. He followed in amazement the sound
of Ariel's voice, till it led him to Prospero and Miranda, who were
sitting under the shade of a large tree. Now Miranda had never seen a
man before, except her own father.

"Miranda," said Prospero, "tell me what you are looking at yonder."

"O father," said Miranda, in a strange surprise, "surely that is a
spirit. Lord! how it looks about! Believe me, sir, it is a beautiful
creature. Is it not a spirit?"

"No, girl," answered her father; "it eats, and sleeps, and has senses
such as we have. This young man you see was in the ship. He is somewhat
altered by grief, or you might call him a handsome person. He has lost
his companions, and is wandering about to find them."

Miranda, who thought all men had grave faces and grey beards like her
father, was delighted with the appearance of this beautiful young
prince; and Ferdinand, seeing such a lovely lady in this desert place,
and from the strange sounds he had heard, expecting nothing but
wonders, thought he was upon an enchanted island, and that Miranda was
the goddess of the place, and as such he began to address her.

She timidly answered, she was no goddess, but a simple maid, and was
going to give him an account of herself, when Prospero interrupted her.
He was well pleased to find they admired each other, for he plainly
perceived they had (as we say) fallen in love at first sight: but to try
Ferdinand's constancy, he resolved to throw some difficulties in their
way: therefore advancing forward, he addressed the prince with a stern
air, telling him, he came to the island as a spy, to take it from him
who was the lord of it. "Follow me," said he, "I will tie you neck and
feet together. You shall drink sea-water; shell-fish, withered roots,
and husks of acorns shall be your food." "No," said Ferdinand, "I will
resist such entertainment, till I see a more powerful enemy," and drew
his sword; but Prospero, waving his magic wand, fixed him to the spot
where he stood, so that he had no power to move.

Miranda hung upon her father, saying, "Why are you so ungentle? Have
pity, sir; I will be his surety. This is the second man I ever saw, and
to me he seems a true one."

"Silence," said the father: "one word more will make me chide you, girl!
What! an advocate for an impostor! You think there are no more such fine
men, having seen only him and Caliban. I tell you, foolish girl, most
men as far excel this, as he does Caliban." This he said to prove his
daughter's constancy; and she replied, "My affections are most humble. I
have no wish to see a goodlier man."

"Come on, young man," said Prospero to the Prince; "you have no power to
disobey me."

"I have not indeed," answered Ferdinand; and not knowing that it was by
magic he was deprived of all power of resistance, he was astonished to
find himself so strangely compelled to follow Prospero: looking back on
Miranda as long as he could see her, he said, as he went after Prospero
into the cave, "My spirits are all bound up, as if I were in a dream;
but this man's threats, and the weakness which I feel, would seem light
to me if from my prison I might once a day behold this fair maid."

Prospero kept Ferdinand not long confined within the cell: he soon
brought out his prisoner, and set him a severe task to perform, taking
care to let his daughter know the hard labour he had imposed on him, and
then pretending to go into his study, he secretly watched them both.

Prospero had commanded Ferdinand to pile up some heavy logs of wood.
Kings' sons not being much used to laborious work, Miranda soon after
found her lover almost dying with fatigue. "Alas!" said she, "do not
work so hard; my father is at his studies, he is safe for these three
hours; pray rest yourself."

"O my dear lady," said Ferdinand, "I dare not. I must finish my task
before I take my rest."

"If you will sit down," said Miranda, "I will carry your logs the
while." But this Ferdinand would by no means agree to. Instead of a help
Miranda became a hindrance, for they began a long conversation, so that
the business of log-carrying went on very slowly.

Prospero, who had enjoined Ferdinand this task merely as a trial of his
love, was not at his books, as his daughter supposed, but was standing
by them invisible, to overhear what they said.

Ferdinand inquired her name, which she told, saying it was against her
father's express command she did so.

Prospero only smiled at this first instance of his daughter's
disobedience, for having by his magic art caused his daughter to fall in
love so suddenly, he was not angry that she showed her love by
forgetting to obey his commands. And he listened well pleased to a long
speech of Ferdinand's, in which he professed to love her above all the
ladies he ever saw.

In answer to his praises of her beauty, which he said exceeded all the
women in the world, she replied, "I do not remember the face of any
woman, nor have I seen any more men than you, my good friend, and my
dear father. How features are abroad, I know not; but, believe me, sir,
I would not wish any companion in the world but you, nor can my
imagination form any shape but yours that I could like. But, sir, I fear
I talk to you too freely, and my father's precepts I forget."

At this Prospero smiled, and nodded his head, as much as to say, "This
goes on exactly as I could wish; my girl will be Queen of Naples."

And then Ferdinand, in another fine long speech (for young princes speak
in courtly phrases), told the innocent Miranda he was heir to the crown
of Naples, and that she should be his queen.

"Ah! sir," said she, "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of. I will
answer you in plain and holy innocence. I am your wife if you will marry
me."

Prospero prevented Ferdinand's thanks by appearing visible before them.

"Fear nothing, my child," said he; "I have overheard, and approve of all
you have said. And, Ferdinand, if I have too severely used you, I will
make you rich amends, by giving you my daughter. All your vexations were
but trials of your love, and you have nobly stood the test. Then as my
gift, which your true love has worthily purchased, take my daughter, and
do not smile that I boast she is above all praise." He then, telling
them that he had business which required his presence, desired they
would sit down and talk together till he returned; and this command
Miranda seemed not at all disposed to disobey.

When Prospero left them, he called his spirit Ariel, who quickly
appeared before him, eager to relate what he had done with Prospero's
brother and the King of Naples. Ariel said he had left them almost out
of their senses with fear, at the strange things he had caused them to
see and hear. When fatigued with wandering about, and famished for want
of food, he had suddenly set before them a delicious banquet, and then,
just as they were going to eat, he appeared visible before them in the
shape of a harpy, a voracious monster with wings, and the feast vanished
away. Then, to their utter amazement, this seeming harpy spoke to them,
reminding them of their cruelty in driving Prospero from his dukedom,
and leaving him and his infant daughter to perish in the sea; saying,
that for this cause these terrors were suffered to afflict them.

The King of Naples, and Antonio the false brother, repented the
injustice they had done to Prospero; and Ariel told his master he was
certain their penitence was sincere, and that he, though a spirit, could
not but pity them.

"Then bring them hither, Ariel," said Prospero: "if you, who are but a
spirit, feel for their distress, shall not I, who am a human being like
themselves, have compassion on them? Bring them, quickly, my dainty
Ariel."

Ariel soon returned with the king, Antonio, and old Gonzalo in their
train, who had followed him, wondering at the wild music he played in
the air to draw them on to his master's presence. This Gonzalo was the
same who had so kindly provided Prospero formerly with books and
provisions, when his wicked brother left him, as he thought, to perish
in an open boat in the sea.

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