What do you like about the ISE? What could we do better? Please tell us in this 10-minute survey!

Start Survey

Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Der bestrafte Brudermord (Fratricide Punished)
  • Author: Anonymous
  • Editor: David Bevington
  • General textual editors: James D. Mardock, Eric Rasmussen
  • Associate textual editor: Donald Bailey
  • Coordinating editor: Michael Best
  • Associate coordinating editor: Janelle Jenstad

  • Copyright David Bevington. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: Anonymous
    Editor: David Bevington
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Der bestrafte Brudermord (Fratricide Punished)

    [Enter] two Soldiers, [meeting].
    1 Sentinel
    Who goes there?
    302 Sentinel
    A friend.
    1 Sentinel
    What friend?
    2 Sentinel
    The sentinel.
    1 Sentinel
    Oho! Comrade, you come to relieve me. I hope the hours may not seem as long for you as they have been for me.
    2 Sentinel
    Nay, comrade, it's not so very cold now.
    351 Sentinel
    Cold or no, I have had an infernal fright.
    2 Sentinel
    How now, chicken-hearted? That is not right for a soldier; he must fear neither friend nor foe, nay, not the devil himself.
    1 Sentinel
    Well, if he once grip you by the short hairs you'll learn quickly enough to say the Miserere Domine.
    2 Sentinel
    Why, what is it that has frightened you?
    1 Sentinel
    Know then that a ghost has appeared on the platform of the castle. Twice it tried to cast me down from the battlements.
    402 Sentinel
    Run along, fool; a dead dog does not bite. I shall soon see whether a ghost that has neither flesh nor bones can do me any harm.
    1 Sentinel
    Just see if the trouble he gives you makes you see otherwise. I am going to the guard-house. Farewell.
    2 Sentinel
    Off with you, then. — Perhaps you were born on a Sunday; all such people can see ghosts. I must attend to my guard duty.
    Healths are drunk within, to a flourish of trumpets.
    452 Sentinel
    Our new King makes merry; they are drinking healths.