Dull.
Nath.
Very reverent sport, truly; and done in
the testimony of a good conscience.
Hol.
The deer was, as you know, in sanguis,—
blood3 note
; ripe as a pomewater4 note
, who now hangeth
like a jewel in the ear of cœlo5 note,—the sky, the
-- 353 --
welkin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab,
on the face of terra,—the soil, the land, the earth.
Nath.
Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are
sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: But, sir,
I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head6 note
.
Hol.
Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
Dull.
'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket.
Hol.
Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of
insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of explication;
facere, as it were, replication, or, rather,
ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination,—after
his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned,
untrained, or rather unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed
fashion,—to insert again my haud credo
for a deer.
Dull.
I said, the deer was not a haud credo;
'twas a pricket.
Hol.
Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus!—O thou
monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!
Nath.
Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties
that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as
-- 354 --
it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not
replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in
the duller parts;
And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be
(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts that do fructify in us more than he7 note
.
For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool,
So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school8 note
:
-- 355 --
But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind,
Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind.
Dull.
You two are book-men: Can you tell by your wit,
What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?
Hol.
Dictynna9 note
, good man Dull; Dictynna,
good man Dull.
Dull.
What is Dictynna?
Nath.
A title to Phœbe, to Luna, to the moon.
Hol.
The moon was a month old when Adam was no more;
And raught not1 note
to five weeks, when he came to fivescore.
The allusion holds in the exchange2 note.
Dull.
'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in
the exchange.
Hol.
God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion
holds in the exchange.
Dull.
And I say the pollusion holds in the exchange;
for the moon is never but a month old:
and I say beside, that 'twas a pricket that the princess
kill'd.
-- 356 --
Hol.
Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal
epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour
the ignorant, I have3 note call'd the deer the princess
kill'd, a pricket.
Nath.
Perge, good master Holofernes, perge; so
it shall please you to abrogate scurrility.
Hol.
I will something affect the letter4 note
; for it
argues facility.
The praiseful princess5 note
pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket;
Some say, a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.
The dogs did yell; put I to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket;
Or pricket, sore, or else sorel; the people fall a hooting.
If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores; O sore L6 note
!
Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but one more L.
Nath.
A rare talent!
-- 357 --
Dull.
If a talent be a claw7 note
, look how he claws
him with a talent8 note.
Hol.
This is a gift that I have, simple, simple;
a foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures,
shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions, revolutions:
these are begot in the ventricle of memory,
nourished in the womb of pia mater9 note * note; and
deliver'd upon the mellowing of occasion: But the
gift is good in those in whom it is acute, and I am
thankful for it.
Nath.
Sir, I praise the Lord for you; and so
may my parishioners; for their sons are well tutor'd
by you, and their daughters profit very greatly under
you: you are a good member of the common-wealth.
Hol.
Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, they
shall want no instruction: if their daughters be capable1 note
,
I will put it to them: But, vir sapit, qui
pauca loquitur: a soul feminine saluteth us.
-- 358 --
Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.
Jaq.
God give you good morrow, master person.
Hol.
Master person,—quasi pers-on2 note
. And if
one should be pierced, which is the one?
Cost.
Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is
likest to a hogshead.
Hol.
Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of
conceit in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint,
pearl enough for a swine: 'tis pretty; it is well.
Jaq.
Good master parson, be so good as read me
this letter; it was given me by Costard, and sent
me from Don Armatho: I beseech you, read it.
Hol.
Fauste, precor gelidâ3 note
quando pecus omne sub umbrâ
-- 359 --
Ruminat,—and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan!
I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice:
—Vinegia, Vinegia,
Chi non te vede, et non te pregia4 note
.
-- 360 --
Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth
thee not, loves thee not.—Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa5 note.—
Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or, rather,
as Horace says in his—What, my soul, verses?
Nath.
Ay, sir, and very learned.
Hol.
Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse;
Lege, domine.
Nath.
If love make me forsworn6 note, how shall I swear to love?
Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed!
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove;
Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed.
-- 361 --
Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes;
Where all those pleasures live, that art would comprehend:
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonder;
(Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire;)
Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is musick, and sweet fire7 note
.
Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this wrong,
That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue!
Hol.
You find not the apostrophes, and so miss
the accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here
are only numbers ratified8 note
; but, for the elegancy,
-- 362 --
facility, and golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius
Naso was the man: and why, indeed, Naso;
but for smelling out the odoriferous flowers of fancy,
the jerks of invention? Imitari, is nothing: so
doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper, the
tired horse9 note
his rider. But damosella virgin, was
this directed to you?
Jaq.
Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron1 note, one of
the strange queen's lords.
-- 363 --
Hol.
I will overglance the superscript. To the
snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline.
I will look again on the intellect of the letter,
for the nomination of the party writing2 note to the person
written unto:
Your Ladyship's in all desired employment, Biron.
Sir Nathaniel, this Biron is one of the votaries with
the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a
sequent of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally,
or by the way of progression, hath miscarried.—
Trip and go, my sweet3 note
; deliver this paper into
the royal hand of the king; it may concern much:
Stay not thy compliment; I forgive thy duty; adieu.
Jaq.
Good Costard, go with me.—Sir, God save
your life!
Cost.
Have with thee, my girl.
[Exeunt Cost. and Jaq.
Nath.
Sir, you have done this in the fear of God,
very religiously; and, as a certain father saith—
Hol.
Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable
colours4 note. But, to return to the verses;
Did they please you, sir Nathaniel?
Nath.
Marvellous well for the pen.
Hol.
I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain
-- 364 --
pupil of mine; where if, before repast5 note, it shall
please you to gratify the table with a grace, I will,
on my privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid
child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto;
where I will prove those verses to be very unlearned,
neither savouring of poetry, wit, nor invention: I
beseech your society.
Nath.
And thank you too: for society, (saith
the text,) is the happiness of life.
Hol.
And, certes6 note
, the text most infallibly concludes
it.—Sir, [To Dull,] I do invite you too;
you shall not say me, nay: pauca verba. Away;
the gentles are at their game, and we will to our
recreation.
[Exeunt.
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
