Dumain.
King.
Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives† note,
Live register'd upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring time,
The endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge,
And make us heirs of all eternity.
Therefore, brave conquerors,—for so you are,
That war against your own affections,
And the huge army of the world's desires,—
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force:
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world;
Our court shall be a little academe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
-- 208 --
You three, Biron, Dumain, and Longaville,
Have sworn for three years' term to live with me,
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes
That are recorded in this schedule here:
Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names;
That his own hand may strike his honour down,
That violates the smallest branch herein:
If you are arm'd to do, as sworn to do,
Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too* note.
Lon.
I am resolv'd: [subscribes.] 'tis but a three years' fast;
The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bank'rout quite the wits.
Dum.
My loving lord, Dumain is mortify'd;
The grosser manner of these world's delights
He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves:
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die;
With all these living in philosophy.
[Subscribes.
Bir.
I can but say their protestation over,
So much, dear liege, I have already sworn,
That is, To live and study here three years.
But there are other strict observances:
As, not to see a woman in that term;
Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there.
And one day in a week to touch no food;
And but one meal on every day beside;
The which, I hope, is not enrolled there.
And then, to sleep but three hours in the night,
And not be seen to wink of all the day;
(When I was wont to think no harm all night,
And make a dark night too of half the day)
Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there.
O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,
Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep† note.
-- 209 --
Kin.
Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these.
Bir.
Let me say, no, my liege, an if you please;
I only swore, to study with your grace,
And stay here in your court for three years' space.
Lon.
You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.
Bir.
By yea and nay, Sir, then I swore in jest.—
What is the end of study? let me know.
Kin.
Why, that to know, which else we should not know.
Bir.
Things hid and bar'd, you mean, from common sense?
Kin.
Ay, that is study's god-like recompence.
Bir.
Come on then, I will swear to study so,
To know the thing I am forbid to know:
As thus,—To study where I well may dine,
When I to feast expresly am forbid?
Or, study where to meet some mistress fine,
When mistresses from common sense are hid:
Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath,
Study to break it, and not break my troth.
If study's gain be thus, and this be so,
Study knows that which yet it doth not know:
Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say, no* note.
Kin.
These be the stops that hinder study quite,
And train our intellects to vain delight.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain
&blquo;Which, with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain:
&blquo;As painfully to pore upon a book,
&blquo;To seek the light of truth; while truth the while
&blquo;Doth falsely blind the eye-sight of his look:
&blquo;Light, seeking light, doth light of light beguile
&blquo;So, ere you find where light in darkness lies,
&blquo;Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
&blquo;Study me how to please the eye indeed,
&blquo;By fixing it upon a fairer eye;
&blquo;Who dazling so, that eye shall be his heed,
&blquo;And give him light that was it blinded by.
-- 210 --
&blquo;Study is like the Heaven's glorious sun,
&blquo;That will not be deep search'd with saucy looks;
&blquo;Small have continual plodders ever won,
&blquo;Save base authority from other's books.
&blquo;These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights,
&blquo;That give a name to every fixed star,
&blquo;Have no more profit of their shining nights,
&blquo;Than those that walk and wot not what they are.
&blquo;Too much to know, is, to know nought but fame;
&blquo;And every godfather can give a name† note.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;How well he's read, to reason against reading!
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;Proceeding well, to stop all good proceeding.
&blquo;Lon.
&blquo;He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;The spring is near, when green geese are a breeding.
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;How follows that?
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Fit in his place and time.
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;In reason nothing.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Something then in rhyme.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Biron is like an envious sneaping frost,
&blquo;That bites the first born infants of the spring.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Well, say, I am? why should proud summer boast,
&blquo;Before the birds have any cause to sing?
&blquo;Why should I joy in an abortive birth?
&blquo;At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
&blquo;Than wish a snow on May's new-fangl'd earth;
&blquo;But like of each thing that in season grows.
&blquo;So you, to study now it is too late,
&blquo;Climb o'er the house to unlock the little gate‡ note.
Kin.
Well, sit you out: go home, Biron; adieu.
-- 211 --
Bir.
No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you:
And, though I have for barbarism spoke more,
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
Yet confident I'll keep what I have swore,
And bide the penance of each three years' day.
Give me the paper, let me read the same;
And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name.
Kin.
How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!
Bir. [Reads]
Item, That no woman shall come within
a mile of my court:—Hath this been proclaim'd?
Lon.
Four days ago.
Bir.
Let's see the penalty. [Reads.]—on pain of losing
her tongue.—Who devis'd this penalty?
Lon.
Marry, that did I.
Bir.
Sweet lord, and why?
Lon.
To fright them hence with that dread penalty.
Bir.
A dangerous law against gentility!
[Reads.
Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman within
the term of three years, he shall endure such publick shame
as the rest of the court can possibly devise* note.—
This article, my liege, yourself must break;
For, well you know, here comes in embassy
The French King's daughter, with yourself to speak.—
A maid of grace, and complete majesty,—
About surrender-up of Aquitain
To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father:
Therefore this article is made in vain,
Or vainly comes the admired princess hither.
Kin.
What say you, lords? why this was quite forgot.
Bir.
So study evermore is overshot;
While it doth study to have what it would,
It doth forget to do the thing it should† note:
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
'Tis won, as towns with fire; so won, so lost.
-- 212 --
Kin.
We must of force dispense with this decree;
We must lie here on mere necessity.
Bir.
Necessity will make us all forsworn
Three thousand times within this three years' space:
For every man with his affects is born;
Not by might master'd, but by special grace:
If I break faith, this word shall speak for me,
I am forsworn on mere necessity.
So to the laws at large I write my name:
[Subscribes, and gives back the Paper.
And he that breaks them in the least degree,
Stands in attainder of eternal shame:
Suggestions are to others as to me;
But, I believe, although I seem so loth,
I am the last that will last keep his oath.
But is there no quick recreation granted?
Kin.
Ay, that there is: our court, you know, is haunted
With a refined traveller of Spain* note;
A man in all the world's new fashion planted,
That hath a mint of phrases in his brain:
One, whom the music of his own vain tongue
Doth ravish, like enchanting harmony;
A man of compliments, whom right and wrong
Have chose as umpire of their mutiny:
This child of fancy, that Armado hight,
For interim to our studies, shall relate,
In high-born words, the worth of many a knight
From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate.
How you delight, my lords, I know not, I;
But, I protest, I love to hear him lie,
And I will use him for my minstrelsy.
Bir.
Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight.
-- 213 --
Lon.
Costard the swain, and he, shall be our sport;
And, so to study, three years are but short.
Enter Dull, with Costard, and a Letter.
Dull.
Which is the duke's own person?
Bir.
This, fellow; what would'st?
Dull.
I myself reprehend his own person, for I am
his grace's tharborough: but I would see his own person
in flesh and blood.
Bir.
This is he.
Dull.
Signior Arme, Arme, commends you: there's
villany abroad; this letter will tell you more.
Cos.
Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me.
Kin.
A letter from the magnificent Armado.
Bir.
How low soever the matter, I hope in Heav'n for
high words.
Lon.
A high hope for a low having: Heav'n grant us
patience!
Bir.
To hear? or forbear laughing?
Lon.
To hear meekly, Sir, and to laugh moderately;
or to forbear both.
Bir.
Well, Sir, be it as the stile shall give us cause
to climb in the merriness.
Cos.
The matter is to me, Sir, as concerning Jaquenetta:
the manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.
Bir.
In what manner?
Cos.
In manner and form following, Sir; all those
three: I was seen with her in the manor house, sitting
with her upon the form, and taken following her into
the park; which, put together, is, in manner and form
following. Now, Sir, for the manner,—it is the manner
of a man to speak to a woman: for the form,—
in some form:
Bir.
For the following, Sir?
Cos.
As it shall follow in my correction; and Heav'n
defend the right!
Kin.
Will you hear this letter with attention?
Bir.
As we would hear an oracle.
Cos.
Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after
the flesh.
Kin. [Reads.]
Great deputy, the welkin's vice-gerent,
-- 214 --
and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul's earth's God,
and body's fostring patron,
Cos.
Not a word of Costard yet.
Kin.
So it is,—
Cos.
It may be so; but if he say it is so, he is, in
telling true, but so so.
Kin.
Peace.
Cos.
—be to me, and every man that dares not fight!
Kin.
No words.
Cos.
—of other men's secrets, I beseech you.
* noteKin.
So it is, besieged with sable-colour'd melancholy,
I did commend the black oppressive humour to the most
wholsome physic of thy health-giving air; and, as I
am a gentleman, betook myself to walk. The time
when? About the sixth hour; when beasts most graze,
birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment
which is called supper. So much for the time when:
Now for the ground which; which, I mean, I walkt
upon: it is ycleped, thy park. Then for the place where;
where, I mean, I did encounter that obscene and most
preposterous event, that draweth from my snow-white
pen the ebon-colour'd ink, which here thou viewest, beholdest,
surveyest, or seest: But to the place where,—it
standest north-north-east and by east from the west corner
of thy curious-knotted garden: There did I see that low-spirited
swain, that base minnow† note of thy mirth,
Cos.
Me.
Kin.
that unletter'd small-knowing soul,
Cos.
Me.
Kin.
that shallow vassal,
Cos.
Still me.
Kin.
which, as I remember, hight Costard,
Cos.
O me!
Kin.
sorted and consorted, contrary to thy established
proclaimed edict and continent canon, with—with—
-- 215 --
O, with—but with this I passion to say wherewith—
Cos.
With a wench.
Kin.
with a child of our grandmother Eve, a female;
or, for thy more sweet understanding, a woman. Him,
I (as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me on) have sent to
thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by thy sweet
grace's officer, Antony Dull; a man of good repute,
carriage, bearing, and estimation.
Dull.
Me, an't shall please you; I am Antony Dull.
Kin.
For Jaquenetta, (so is the weaker vessel called,
which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain) I keep
her as a vessel of thy law's fury; and shall, at the least
of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial.
Thine, in all compliments of devoted and heart-burning
heat of duty, Don Adriano de Armado.
Bir.
This is not so well as I look'd for, but the best
that ever I heard.
Kin.
Ay, the best for the worst.—But, sirrah, what
say you to this?
Cos.
Sir, I confess the wench.
Kin.
Did you hear the proclamation?
Cos.
I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of
the marking of it.
Kin.
It was proclaim'd a year's imprisonment to be
taken with a wench.
Cos.
I was taken with none, Sir; I was taken with
a damosel.
Kin.
Well, it was proclaimed damosel.
Cos.
This was no damosel neither, Sir; she was a
virgin.
Kin.
It is so vary'd too; for it was proclaimed virgin.
Cos.
If it were, I deny her virginity; I was taken
with a maid.
Kin.
This maid will not serve your turn, Sir.
Cos.
This maid will serve my turn, Sir.
Kin.
Sir, I will pronounce your sentence; you shall
fast a week with bran and water.
Cos.
I had rather pray a month with mutton and
porridge.
Kin.
And Don Armado shall be your keeper.—
-- 216 --
My lord Biron, see him deliver'd o'er.—
And go we, lords, to put in practice that
Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.
[Exeunt King, Lon. and Dum.
Bir.
I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.—
Sirrah, come on.
Cos.
I suffer for the truth, Sir: for true it is, I was
taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaquenetta is a true girl;
and therefore, Welcome the sour cup of prosperity!
Affliction may one day smile again; and, 'till then,
Sit thee down, sorrow.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another Part of the same.
Enter Armado, and Moth.
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great
spirit grows melancholy?&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;A great sign, Sir, that he will look sad.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Why, sadness is one and the self same thing,
dear imp.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;No, no; O lord, Sir, no.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;How canst thou part sadness and melancholy,
my tender juvenal?&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;By a familiar demonstration of the working,
my tough signior.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Why tough signior? why tough signior?&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent
epitheton, appertaining to thy young days, which we
may nominate, tender.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;And I, tough signior, as an appertinent title
to your old time, which we may name, tough.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Pretty, and apt.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;How mean you, Sir? I pretty, and my saying
apt? or I apt, and my saying pretty?&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Thou pretty, because little.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Little pretty, because little: Wherefore apt?&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;And therefore apt, because quick.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Speak you this in my praise, master?&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;In thy condign praise.&brquo;
-- 217 --
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;I will praise an eel with the same praise.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;What? that an eel is ingenious?&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;That an eel is quick* note.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;I do say, thou art quick in answers: Thou
heat'st my blood.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;I am answer'd, Sir.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;I love not to be crost.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;He speaks the mere contrary, crosses love not
him.&brquo;
[Aside.
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;I have promised to study three years with the
Duke.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;You may do it in an hour, Sir.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Impossible.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;How many is one thrice told?&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;I am ill at reck'ning, it fitteth the spirit of
a tapster.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;You are a gentleman, and a gamester, Sir.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;I confess both; they are both the varnish of
a complete man.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Then, I am sure, you know how much the
gross sum of deux-ace amounts to.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;It doth amount to one more than two.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Which the base vulgar do call, three.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;True.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Why, Sir, is this such a piece of study? Now
here is three study'd, ere you'll thrice wink: and how
easy it is, to put years to the word three, and study
three years in two words, the dancing horse will
tell you.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;A most fine figure!&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;To prove you a cypher.&brquo;
[Aside.
† noteArm.
I will hereupon confess, I am in love: and as
it is base for a soldier to love, so am I in love with a
-- 218 --
base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour
of affection would deliver me from the reprobate thought
of it, I would take desire prisoner; and ransom him to
any French courtier for a new devis'd court'sy. I think
scorn to sigh; methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort
me, boy; What great men have been in love?
Mot.
Hercules, master.
Arm.
Most sweet Hercules!—More authority, dear
boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men
of good repute and carriage.
Mot.
Sampson, master: he was a man of good carriage,
great carriage; for he carried the town-gates on
his back like a porter: and he was in love.
Arm.
O well-knit Sampson! strong-jointed Sampson!
I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou did'st me
in carrying gates. I am in love too.—Who was Sampson's
love, my dear Moth?* note
Mot.
A woman, master.
Arm.
Of what complexion?
Mot.
Of all the four, or the three, or the two; or one
of the four.
Arm.
Tell me precisely, of what complexion?
Mot.
Of the sea-water green, Sir.
Arm.
Is that one of the four complexions?
Mot.
As I have read, Sir; and the best of them too.
Arm.
Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers: but to
have a love of that colour, methinks, Sampson had small
reason for it. He, surely, affected her for her wit.
Mot.
It was so, Sir; for she had a green wit.
Arm.
My love is most immaculate white and red.
Mot.
Most maculate thoughts, master, are mask'd
under such colours.
Arm.
Define, define, well educated infant.
Mot.
My father's wit, and my mother's tongue, assist
me!
Arm.
Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty, and
pathetical!
-- 219 --
Mot.
If she be made of white and red,
Her faults will ne'er be known:
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred,
And fears by pale-white shown:
Then, if she fear, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know;
For still her cheeks possess the same,
Which native she doth owe.
A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white
and red.
Arm.
Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the
Beggar?
Mot.
The world was very guilty of such a ballad
some three ages since: but, I think, now 'tis not to
be found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for the
writing, nor the tune.
Arm.
I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that
I may example my digression by some mighty precedent.
Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in
the park with the irrational hind, Costard; she deserves
well.
Mot.
To be whip'd; and yet a better love than my
master.
[Aside.
Arm.
Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.
Mot.
And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.
Arm.
I say, sing.
Mot.
Forbear, 'till this company be past.
Enter Dull, Costard, and Jaquenetta.
Dull.
Sir, the Duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard
safe: and you must suffer him to take no delight,
nor no penance; but a' must fast three days a week:
For this damsel, I must keep her at the park; she is
allow'd for the day-woman. Fare you well.
Arm.
I do betray myself with blushing.—Maid.
Jaq.
Man.
Arm.
I will visit thee at the lodge* note.
-- 220 --
Jaq.
That's hereby.
Arm.
I know where it is situate.
Jaq.
Lord, how wise you are!
Arm.
I will tell thee wonders.
Jaq.
With that face?
Arm.
I love thee.
Jaq.
So I heard you say.
Arm.
And so farewel.
Jaq.
Fair weather after you!
Dull.
Come, Jaquenetta, away.
[Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta.
Arm.
Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences, ere
thou be pardoned.
Cos.
Well, Sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on
a full stomach.
Arm.
Thou shalt be heavily punished.
Cos.
I am more bound to you than your followers,
for they are but lightly rewarded.
Arm.
Take away this villain; shut him up.
Mot.
Come, you transgressing slave; away.
Cos.
Let me not be pent up, Sir; I will fast, being loose.
Mot.
No, Sir; that were fast and loose; thou shalt to
prison.
Cos.
Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation
that I have seen, some shall see—
Mot.
What shall some see?
Cos.
Nay, nothing, master Moth, but what they look
upon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their
words; and, therefore, I will say nothing: I thank
Heav'n I have as little patience as another man; and,
therefore, I can be quiet.
[Exeunt Moth, and Costard.
Arm.
I do affect the very ground, which is base,
where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot which
is basest* note, doth tread. I shall be forsworn (which is a
great argument of falsehood) if I love: And how can that
-- 221 --
be true love, which is falsly attempted? Love is a familiar;
love is a devil: there is no evil angel, but love.
Yet Sampson was so tempted; and he had an excellent
strength: yet was Solomon so seduced; and he had a very
good wit: Cupid's but-shaft is too hard for Hercules'
club, and therefore too much odds for a Spaniard's rapier.
The first and second cause will not serve my turn;
the passado he respects not, the duello he regards not:
his disgrace is to be called boy; but his glory is to subdue
men. Adieu, valour; rust, rapier; be still, drum; for
your manager is in love; yea, he loveth. Assist me,
some extemporal god of rhyme, for, I am sure, I shall
turn sonneter. Devise, wit; write, pen; for I am for
whole volumes in folio.
[Exit† note.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Another Part of the same.
Tents pitch'd; a Pavilion, in the midst, at a Distance.
Enter Princess of France, attended; Boyet, Catharine, Rosaline, and Maria.
Boyet.
Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits* note:
Consider who the king your father sends;
To whom he sends; and what's his embassy:
Yourself, held precious in the world's esteem;
To parly with the sole inheritor
-- 222 --
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchless Navarre; the plea of no less weight
Than Aquitain, a dowry for a queen.
Be now as prodigal of all dear grace,
As Nature was in making graces dear,
When she did starve the general world beside.
And prodigally gave them all to you.
Pri.
Good lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise;
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye,
Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues:
I am less proud to hear you tell my worth,
Than you much willing to be counted wise
In spending thus your wit in praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker,—Good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
'Till painful study shall out-wear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to us seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and, in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you,
As our best-moving fair solicitor:
Tell him the daughter of the king of France,
On serious business, craving quick dispatch,
Impórtunes* note personal conference with his grace.
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humble-visag'd suitors, his high will.
Boy.
Proud of employment, willingly I go.
[Exit Boyet.
Pri.
All pride is willing pride, and yours is so.—
Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?
1. L.
Lord Longaville is one.
Pri.
Know you the man?
-- 223 --
Mar.
I know him, madam; at a marriage feast,
Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Faulconbridge solémnized,
In Normandy saw I this Longaville:
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd;
Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms:
Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well:
The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss,
(If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil* note)
Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will;
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills
It should none spare that come within his power.
Pri.
Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so?
Mar.
They say so most, that most his humours know.
Pri.
Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?
Cat.
The young Dumain, a well-accomplish'd youth,
Of all that virtue love for virtue lov'd:
Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill;
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace though he had no wit:
I saw him at the duke Alenson's once;
And much too little of that good I saw,
Is my report to his great worthiness.
Ros.
Another of these students at that time
Was there with him, if I have heard a truth;
Biron they call him; but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal:
His eye begets occasion for his wit;
For every object that the one doth catch,
The other turns to a mirth-moving jest;
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor)
Delivers in such apt and gracious words,
That aged ears play truant at his tales,
And younger hearings are quite ravished;
-- 224 --
So sweet and voluble is his discourse† note.
Pri.
Heav'n bless my ladies! are they all in love;
That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?
1. L.
Here comes Boyet.
Re-enter Boyet.
Pri.
Now, what admittance, lord?
Boy.
Navarre had notice of your fair approach;
And he and his competitors in oath
Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady,
Before I came: Marry, thus much I have learnt,—
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
(Like one that comes here to besiege his court)
Than seek a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his unpeopl'd house.
Here comes Navarre.
[Ladies mask.
Enter King, attended; Dumain, Biron, Longaville, and others.
Kin.
Fair Princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.
&blquo;Pri.
&blquo;Fair, I give you back again; and, welcome,
I have not yet: the roof of this court is too high to
be yours; and welcome to the wide fields too base to
be mine.&brquo;
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;You shall be welcome, madam, to my court.
&blquo;Pri.
&blquo;I will be welcome then; conduct me thither.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Hear me, dear lady,—I have sworn an oath.
&blquo;Pri.
&blquo;Our lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.
&blquo;Pri.
&blquo;Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing else.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.
Pri.
&blquo;Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise;
&blquo;Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
&blquo;I hear your grace hath sworn-out house-keeping:
&blquo;'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord;
-- 225 --
&blquo;Not sin to break it:
&blquo;But pardon me, I am too sudden bold;
&blquo;To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.
Kin.
Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.
Pri.
You will the sooner, that I were away;
For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me stay.
Bir.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Cat.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Bir.
I know, you did.
Cat.
How needless was it then
To ask the question!
Bir.
You must not be so quick.
Cat.
'Tis long of you, that spur me with such questions.
Bir.
Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire.
Cat.
Not 'till it leave the rider in the mire.
Bir.
What time o'day?
Cat.
The hour that fools should ask.
Bir.
Now fair befall your mask!
Cat.
Fair fall the face it covers!
Bir.
And send you many lovers!
Cat.
Amen; so you be none.
Bir.
Nay, then will I be gone* note.
Kin.
Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but the one half of an entire sum,
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say that he, or we, (as neither have)
Receiv'd that sum; yet there remains unpay'd
A hundred thousand more; in surety of which,
One part of Aquitain is bound to us,
Although not valu'd to the money's worth.
If then the king your father will restore
But that one half which is unsatisfy'd,
We will give up our right in Aquitain,
-- 226 --
And hold fair friendship with his majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth:
For here he doth demand, to have repay'd
An hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain so gelded as it is.
Dear Princess, were not his requests so far
From reason's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding, 'gainst some reason, in my breast,
And go well satisfy'd to France again.
Pri.
You do the king my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that which hath so faithfully been pay'd.
Kin.
I do protest, I never heard of it;
And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.
Pri.
We arrest your word* note:—
Boyet, you can produce acquittances,
For such a sum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.
Kin.
Satisfy me so.
Boy.
So please your grace, the packet is not come,
Where that and other specialties are bound;
To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.
Kin.
It shall suffice me; at which interview,
All liberal reason I will yield unto.
Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand,
As honour, without breach of honour, may,
Make tender of to thy true worthiness:
You may not come, fair Princess, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so receiv'd,
As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Though so deny'd fair harbour in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewel.
-- 227 --
To-morrow shall we visit you again.
Pri.
Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace!
Kin.
Thy own wish wish I thee in every place!
[Exeunt King, and his Train.
Bir.
Lady, I will commend you to my heart.
Ros.
Now, pray you, do my commendations;
I would be glad to see it.
Bir.
I would, you heard it groan.
Ros.
Is the fool sick?
Bir.
Sick at the heart.
Ros.
Alack, let it blood.
Bir.
Would that do it good?
Ros.
My physic says, I.
Bir.
Will you prick't with your eye?
Ros.
No, poynt, with my knife.
Bir.
Now, Heav'n save thy life!
Ros.
And yours from long living!
Bir.
I cannot stay, thanks-giving.
[retiring.
Dum.
Sir, I pray you, a word; What lady is that same?
Boy.
The heir of Alenson, Rosaline her name.
Dum.
A gallant lady!—Monsieur, fare you well.
[Exit Dumain.
Lon.
I beseech you, a word; What is she in the white?
Boy.
A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.
Lon.
Perchance, light in the light: I desire her name.
Boy.
She hath but one for herself; to desire that, were a shame.
Lon.
Pray you, Sir, whose daughter?
Boy.
Her mother's, I have heard.
Lon.
Heav'n's blessing on your beard.
Boy.
Good Sir, be not offended:
She is an heir of Faulconbridge.
Lon.
Nay, my choler is ended.
She is a most sweet lady.
Boy.
Not unlike, Sir; that may be.
[Exit Longaville.
Bir.
What's her name in the cap?
Boy.
Catherine, by good hap.
Bir.
Is she wedded, or no?
Boy.
To her will, Sir, or so.
Bir.
You are welcome, Sir, adieu.
-- 228 --
Boy.
Farewel to me, Sir, and welcome to you* note.
[Exit Biron. Ladies unmask.
Mar.
That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord;
Not a word with him but a jest.
Boy.
And every jest but a word.
Pri.
It was well done of you, to take him at his word.
Boy.
I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.
Cat.
Two hot sheeps, marry!
Boy.
And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.
Cat.
You sheep, and I pasture; Shall that finish the jest?
Boy.
So you grant pasture for me.
[Offering to kiss her.
Cat.
Not so, gentle beast;
My lips are no common, though several they be.
Boy.
Belonging to whom?
Cat.
To my fortunes and me.
Pri.
Good wits will be jangling: but, gentles, agree:
This civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his bookmen; for here 'tis abused.
Boy.
If my observation, (which very seldom lies)
By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
Pri.
With what?
Boy.
With that which we lovers intitle, affected.
Pri.
Your reason?
† noteBoy.
Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:
His heart, like an agat, with your print impressed;
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed;
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair:
Methought, all his senses were lock'd in his eye,
Like jewels in chrystal for some prince to buy;
-- 229 --
Who, tendring their own worth from where they were glass'd,
Did point you to buy them along as you pass'd.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes:
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
Pri.
Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd—
Boy.
But to speak that in words, which his eye hath disclos'd:
I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.
Mar.
Thou'rt an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully.
Cat.
He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him.
Ros.
Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim.
Boy.
Do you hear, my mad wenches?
Lad.
No.
Boy.
What then do you see?
Lad.
Ay, our way to be gone.
Boy.
You are too hard for me.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another Part of the same.
Enter Armado, and Moth.
Arm.
Warble, child; make passionate my sense of
hearing.
Mot.
Concolinel—
[Singing.
Arm.
Sweet air!—Go, tenderness of years; take this
key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately
hither; I must employ him in a letter to my love.
Mot.
Master, will you win your love with a French
brawl?
Arm.
How meanest thou? brawling in French?
Mot.
No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune
at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour
it with turning up your eye-lids; sigh a note, and sing a
note; sometime through the throat, as if you swallow'd
love with singing love; sometime through the nose, as if
-- 230 --
you snuft up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse-like
o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms
cross'd on your thin-belly doublet, like a rabbet on a
spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after
the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune,
but a snip and away: These are compliments, these are
humours: these betray nice wenches,—that would be
betray'd without these; and make them men of note,
(do you note me?) that are most affected to these* note.
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;How hast thou purchas'd this experience?&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;By my penny of observation.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;But, O, but, O,—&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;—the hobby-horse is forgot.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Call'st thou my love, hobby-horse?&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt,
and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you
forgot your love?&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Almost I had.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Negligent student! learn her by heart.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;By heart, and in heart, boy.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;And out of heart, master: all those three I
will prove.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;What wilt thou prove?&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;A man, if I live; and this, by, in, and without,
upon the instant: By heart you love her, because
your heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her,
because your heart is in love with her; and out of
heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot
enjoy her.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;I am all these three.&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;And three times as much more, and yet
nothing at all† note.&brquo;
Arm.
Fetch hither the swain; he must carry me a letter.
Mot.
A message well sympathis'd; a horse to be embassador
for an ass.
Arm.
Ha, ha; what sayest thou?
-- 231 --
Mot.
Marry, Sir, you must send the ass upon the
horse, for he is very slow-gaited: But I go.
Arm.
The way is but short; away.
Mot.
As swift as lead, Sir.
Arm.
The meaning, pretty ingenious?
Is not lead a metal, heavy, dull, and slow?
Mot.
Minimè, honest master; or rather, master, no.
Arm.
I say, lead is slow.
Mot.
You are too swift, Sir, to say so:
Is that lead slow, which is fired from a gun?
Arm.
Sweet smoke of rhetoric!
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:—
I shoot thee at the swain.
Mot.
Thump then, and I flee.
[Exit.
Arm.
A most acute juvenal; voluble, and free of grace!
By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face.
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place.
My herald is return'd.
Re-enter Moth, with Costard limping.
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;A wonder, master; here's a Costard broken in a shin.
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy l'envoy; begin.
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy, no salve in
the matter, Sir: O, Sir, plantan, a plain plantan:
no l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, Sir, but a plantan!&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly
thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes
me to ridiculous smiling: O, pardon me, my
stars! doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy,
and the word, l'envoy, for a salve?&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy
a salve?&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;No, page; it is an epilogue, or discourse, to make plain
&blquo;Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been fain.
I will example it:
&blquo;The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
&blquo;Were still at odds, being but three.
&blquo;There's the moral; Now the l'envoy.
-- 232 --
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;I will add the l'envoy; say the moral again.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
&blquo;Were still at odds, being but three:
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Until the goose came out of door,
&blquo;And stay'd the odds by adding four.
&blquo;Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with
my l'envoy.&brquo;
&blquo;The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
&blquo;Were still at odds, being but three:
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Until the goose came out of door,
&blquo;Staying the odds by adding four.
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;A good l'envoy, ending in the goose; Would you desire more?
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's flat:—
&blquo;Sir, your penny-worth is good, an your goose be fat.—
&blquo;To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose:
&blquo;Let me see a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose.
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Come hither, come hither; How did this argument begin?
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.
&blquo;Then call'd you for the l'envoy.
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;True, and I for plantan; thus came your argument in:
&blquo;Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought;
&blquo;And he ended the market.
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;But, tell me; how was there a Costard broken in a shin?
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;I will tell you sensibly.&brquo;
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak
that l'envoy:—&brquo;
&blquo;I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
&blquo;Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;We will talk no more of this matter.&brquo;
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;'Till there be more matter in the shin.&brquo;
Arm.
Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee* note.
-- 233 --
Cos.
O, marry me to one Frances;—I smell some
l'envoy, some goose, in this.
Arm.
By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at liberty,
enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured, restrained,
captivated, bound.
Cos.
True, true; and now you will be my purgation,
and let me loose.
Arm.
I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance;
and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:
Bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta:
there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine honour,
is, rewarding my dependants.—Moth, follow.
Mot.
Like the sequel, I.—Signior Costard, adieu.
Cos.
My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew!—
[Exeunt Moth, and Armado.
Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration!
O, that's the latin word for three farthings: Three farthings
—remuneration. What's the price of this incle?—A
penny.—No; I'll give you a remuneration:—Why, it carries
it. Remuneration! why, it is a fairer name than French-crown.
I will never buy and sell out of this word.
Enter Biron.
Bir.
O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met.
Cos.
Pray you, Sir, how much carnation ribbon may
a man buy for a remuneration* note
?
Bir.
What is remuneration?
Cos.
Marry, Sir, half-penny farthing.
Bir.
O, why then, three-farthing-worth of silk.
Cos.
I thank your worship; Heav'n be wi'you!
Bir.
O, stay, slave; I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall intreat.
Cos.
When would you have it done, Sir.
-- 234 --
Bir.
O, this afternoon.
Cos.
Well, I will do it, Sir: fare you well.
Bir.
O, thou knowest not what it is.
Cos.
I shall know, Sir, when I have done it.
Bir.
Why, villain, thou must know first.
Cos.
I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.
Bir.
It must be done this afternoon: Hark, slave, it
is but this;—
The princess comes to hunt here in the park,
And in her train there is a gentle lady;
When tongues speak sweetly then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her: ask for her;
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.
Cos.
Guerdon,—O sweet guerdon! better than remuneration;
eleven-pence farthing better: Most sweet
guerdon!—I will do it, Sir, in print.—Guerdon—Remuneration.
[Exit Costard.
Bir.
O!—And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip,
A very bedel to a humorous sigh;
A critick; nay, a night-watch constable;
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This whimp'ring, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This signior Junio's giant-dwarf, dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rimes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malecontents,
Dread prince of plackets, &blquo;king of cod-pieces* note,&brquo;
Sole imperator and great general
Of trotting parators,—O my little heart!—
And I to be a corporal of his file,
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What, what! I love? I sue? I seek a wife?
A woman, that is like a German clock;
Still a repairing; ever out of frame?
And never going right, being a watch,
-- 235 --
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all:
And, among three, to love the worst of all:
A whitely wanton, with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
&blquo;Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
&blquo;Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
Which Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.
[Exit† note.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Another Part of the same.
Enter the Princess, and her Train; a Forester; Boyet, Catherine, Rosalina, and Maria.
Princess.
Was that the king, that spur'd his horse so hard
Against the steep uprising of the hill?
Boy.
I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Pri.
Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting mind.—
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.—
Then, Forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murtherer in?
For.
Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot.
Pri.
I thank my beauty; I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot.
For.
Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
-- 236 --
Pri.
What, what; first praise me, and again say, no
O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for woe!
For.
Yes, madam, fair,—
Pri.
Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true;
[Gives money
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For.
Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
Pri.
See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.—
But come, the bow:—Now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;
If wounding, then it was to shew my skill,
That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is sometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes;
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart:
As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill† note.
Boy.
Do not curst wives hold that self sov'reignty
Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?
Pri.
Only for praise: and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.
Enter Costard.
Boy.
Here comes a member of the common-wealth.
Cos.
God-dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the
head lady?
-- 237 --
Pri.
Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that
have no heads.
Cos.
Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Pri.
The thickest, and the tallest.
Cos.
The thickest, and the tallest! it is so; truth is truth.—
An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One o'these maid's girdles for your waist should be fit.
Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.
Pri.
What's your will, Sir? what's your will?
Cos.
I have a letter from monsieur Biron to one lady Rosaline.
Pri.
O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good friend of mine:
Stand aside, good bearer.—Boyet, you can carve;
Break up this capon.
Boy.
I am bound to serve.—
This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.
Pri.
We will read it, I swear:
Break* note
the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.
† noteBoy. [reads.]
By heaven, that thou art fair, is most
infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself,
that thou art lovely: more fairer than fair, beautiful
than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration
on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most
illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and
indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that
might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize
in the vulgar, (O base and obscure vulgar!) is,
he came, saw, and overcame: He came, one; saw,
two; overcame, three: Who came? the king; Why
did he come? to see; Why did he see? to overcome:
-- 238 --
To whom came he? to the beggar; What saw he? the
beggar; Who overcame he? the beggar: The conclusion
is victory; On whose side? the king's: the captive
is enrich'd; On whose side? the beggar's: The catastrophe
is a nuptial; On whose side? the king's;—no;
on both in one, or one in both. I am the king; for so
stands the comparison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth
thy lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may:
Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat thy
love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for rags?
robes; For tittles? titles; For thyself? me. Thus, expecting
thy reply, I prophane my lips on thy foot, my
eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy every part.
Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
Don Adriano de Armado.
Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey;
Submissive fall his princely feet before,
And he from forage will incline to play:
But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den.
Pri.
What plume of feathers is he, that indited this letter?
What vane? what weather-cock? Did you ever hear better?
Boy.
I am much deceived, but I remember the stile.
Pri.
Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.
Boy.
This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court;
A phantasme, a monarcho; and one that makes sport
To the prince, and his book-mates.
Pri.
Thou, fellow, a word:
Who gave thee this letter?
Cos.
I told you; my lord.
Pri.
To whom should'st thou give it?
Cos.
From my lord to my lady.
Pri.
From which lord, to which lady?
Cos.
From my lord Biron, a good master of mine,
To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.
Pri.
Thou hast mistaken his letter.—Come, lords, away.—
Here, sweet, [to Ros.] put up this; 'twill be thine another day.
[Exeunt Princess, and Train
-- 239 --
Boy.
Who is the shooter? who is the shooter?
Ros.
Shall I teach you to know?
Boy.
Ay, my continent of beauty.
Ros.
Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off!
Boy.
My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry,
Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.
Finely put on!
Ros.
Well then, I am the shooter.
Boy.
And who is your dear?
Ros.
If we choose by the horns, yourself; come not near.
Finely put on, indeed!
Mar.
You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.
Boy.
But she herself is hit lower: Have I hit her now?
Ros.
Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that
was a man when king Pippin of France was a little boy,
as touching the hit it.
Boy.
So I may answer thee with one as old, that was
a woman when queen Guinover of Britain was a little
wench, as touching the hit it.
Ros.
Thou can'st not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou can'st not hit it, my good man,
Boy.
An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
An I cannot, another can.
[Exeunt Ros. and Cat.
Cos.
By my troth, most pleasant! how both did fit it!
Mar.
A mark marvelous well shot; for they both did hit it.
Boy.
A mark!—O, mark but that mark; A mark, says my lady!
Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be.
Mar.
Wide o'the bow hand! I'faith, your hand is out.
Cos.
Indeed a'must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.
Boy.
An'if my hand be out, then, belike, your hand is in.
Cos.
Then will she get the upshot by cleaving the pin.
-- 240 --
Mar.
Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul.
Cos.
She's too hard for you at pricks, Sir; challenge her to bowl.
* noteBoy.
I fear too much rubbing: Good night, my good owl.
[Exeunt Boy. and Mar.
Cos.
By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown!
Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him down!
O'my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit!
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.
Armatho o't'one side—O, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!
To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a'will swear!—
And his page o't'other side, that handful of wit!
Ah heavens, it is a most pathetical nit!
[Shout within.
Sola! sola† note!
[Exit, running.
SCENE II.
The same.
Enter Sir Nathaniel, Holofernes, and Dull.
Nat.
Very reverent sport, truly; and done in the
testimony of a good conscience.
Hol.
The deer was, as you know, in sanguis, blood:
ripe as a pome-water; who now hangeth, like a jewel,
in the ear of cælo,—the sky, the welkin, the heaven;
And anon, falleth, like a crab, on the face of terra,—
the soil, the land, the earth.
Nat.
Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly
vary'd, like a scholar at the least: But, Sir, I assure ye,
it was a buck of the first head.
Hol.
Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
-- 241 --
Dul.
'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.
&blquo;Dull.
&blquo;I said, the deer was not a haud credo; 'twas a
pricket.&brquo;
&blquo;Hol.
&blquo;Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus!—O thou
monster, ignorance, how deform'd dost thou look!&brquo;
&blquo;Nat.
&blquo;Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are
bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were, he
hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished; he
is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts:&brquo;
&blquo;And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be
&blquo;For those parts which we taste, and feel, do fructify in us more than he.
&blquo;For as it would ill become me, to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool;
&blquo;So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school:
&blquo;But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind,
&blquo;Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind.
&blquo;Dull.
&blquo;You two are book-men; Can you tell by your wit,
&blquo;What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?
&blquo;Hol.
&blquo;Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull.
&blquo;Dul.
&blquo;What is Dictynna?
&blquo;Hol.
&blquo;A title to Phœbe, to Luna, to the moon.
&blquo;The moon was a month old, when Adam was no more;
&blquo;And raught not to five weeks, when he came to five score.
&blquo;The allusion holds in the exchange.
&blquo;Dul.
&blquo;'Tis true, indeed; the collusion holds in the
exchange.&brquo;
&blquo;Hol.
&blquo;God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion,
holds in the exchange.&brquo;
-- 242 --
&blquo;Dul.
&blquo;And I say, the pollution 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.&brquo;
&blquo;Hol.
&blquo;Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal
epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the
ignorant, I have called the deer the princess kill'd,
a pricket.&brquo;
&blquo;Nat.
&blquo;Perge, good master Holofernes, perge; so it shall
please you to abrogate scurrility.&brquo;
&blquo;Hol.
&blquo;I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.
&blquo;The praiseful princess pierc'd, and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket;
&blquo;Some say, a sore; but not a sore, 'till now made sore with shooting:
&blquo;The dogs did yell; put l to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket:
&blquo;Or pricket, sore, or else sorel, the people fall a hooting.
&blquo;If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty sores; O sore L!
&blquo;Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L.
&blquo;Nat.
&blquo;A rare talent!&brquo;
&blquo;Dul.
&blquo;If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him
with a talent.&brquo;
&blquo;Hol.
&blquo;This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a
foolish extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes,
objects, ideas, apprehensions, motion, revolutions:
these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourish'd
in the womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the
mellowing of occasion: But the gift is good in those
in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it* note.&brquo;
Nat.
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
-- 243 --
want no instruction; if their daughters be capable, I
will put it to them. But, Vir sapit qui pauca loquitur:
a soul feminine saluteth us.
Enter Jaquenetta, and Costard.
Jaq.
Heav'n give you good morrow, master parson!
Hol.
Master parson,—quasi pers-one: And if one
should be pierc'd, which is the one?
Cos.
Marry, master school-master, 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.
&blquo;* noteHol.
Fauste, precor gelidâ quando pecus omne sub umbrä
&blquo;Ruminat,—and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan!
&blquo;I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice,—
&blquo;&lblank;Vinegia, Vinegia,
&blquo;Chi non te vedi, ei non te pregia.
&blquo;Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! who understandeth thee
not, loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.—Under
pardon, Sir, what are the contents? or, rather, as
Horace says in his—What, my soul, verses?&brquo;
&blquo;Nat.
&blquo;Ay, Sir, and very learned.&brquo;
&blquo;Hol.
&blquo;Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; lege, domine.
&blquo;Nat.
&blquo;If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?
[reading.
&blquo;Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed!
&blquo;Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove;
&blquo;Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed.
-- 244 --
&blquo;Study his biass leaves, and makes his book thine eyes;
&blquo;Where all those pleasures live, that art would comprehend;
&blquo;If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;
&blquo;Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend:
&blquo;All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonder;
&blquo;(Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire)
&blquo;Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice is dreadful thunder,
&blquo;Which, not to anger bent, is musick, and sweet fire,
&blquo;Celestial as thou art, O, pardon, love, this wrong,
&blquo;That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue!
&blquo;Hol.
&blquo;You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the
accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only
numbers ratify'd; but, for the elegancy, 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 horse his rider.—But, damosella
virgin, was this directed to you?&brquo;
&blquo;Jaq.
&blquo;Ay, Sir, from one monsieur Biron, one of
the strange queen's lords.&brquo;
Hol.
I will overglance the superscript: To the snow-white
hand of the beauteous Lady Rosaline. I will look
again on the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of
the party writing to the person written unto; Your Ladiship'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 sweet; 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, Heav'n save your life!
Cos.
Have with thee, my girl.
[Exeunt Cos. and Jaq.
Nat.
Sir, you have done this in the fear of Heaven,
very religiously: and, as a certain father faith,—
Hol.
Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable
-- 245 --
colours. But to return to the verses; Did they
please you, Sir Nathaniel?
Nat.
Marvelous well for the pen.
Hol.
I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil
of mine; where if, before repast, it shall please you to
gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my priviledge
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 favouring of poetry,
wit, nor invention: I beseech your society.
Nat.
And thank you too: for society, saith the text,
is the happiness of life.
Hol.
And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes
it.—Sir, [to Dul.] 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* note.
[Exeunt.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
A Grove in the same.
Enter Biron, with a Paper.
Biron.
The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing
myself: they have pitch'd a toyl; I am toiling in
a pitch; pitch, that defiles; defile, a foul word. Well,
Set thee down, sorrow! for so, they say, the fool said;
And so say I, and I the fool: Well prov'd, wit! By
the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it kills sheep;
it kills me, I a sheep: Well prov'd again o'my side!
I will not love: if I do, hang me; i' faith, I will not.
O, but here eye,—by this light, but for her eye, I would
not love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing
in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By
heaven, I do love: and it hath taught me to rhime, and
to be melancholy; and here is part of my rhime, and
-- 246 --
here my melancholy. Well, she hath one o'my sonnets
already; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, the lady
hath it; sweet clown, sweeter fool, sweetest lady. By
the world, I would not care a pin, if the other three
were in: Here comes one with a paper; Heaven give
him grace to groan* note!
[retiring.
Enter the King, with a Paper.
Kin.
Ay me!
Bir.
Shot, by heaven!—Proceed, sweet Cupid; thou
hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap† note:
I'faith, secrets.
[gets up into a Tree.
Kin.
So sweet a kiss [reading.] the golden sun gives not
To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,
As thy eye beams, when their fresh rays have smot
The night of dew that on my cheeks down flows:
Nor shines the silver moon one half so bright
Through the transparent bosom of the deep,
As doth thy face through tears of mine give light;
Thou shin'st in every tear that I do weep:
No drop but as a coach doth carry thee,
So ridest thou triúmphing in my woe;
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my grief will show:
But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.
O queen of queens, how far dost thou excel!
‡ noteNo thought can think, nor tongue of mortal tell.—
How shall she know my griefs? I'll drop the paper;
Sweet leaves, shade folly. Who is he comes here?
Enter Longaville, with a Paper.
What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear.
[stepping behind a Bush.
-- 247 --
Bir.
Now, in thy likeness, one more fool, appear!
Lon.
Ay me! I am forsworn.
Bir.
Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.
Kin.
In love, I hope; Sweet fellowship in shame!
Bir.
One drunkard loves another of the name.
Lon.
Am I the first that have been perjur'd so?
Bir.
I could put thee in comfort; not by two, that I know:
* noteThou mak'st the triumviry, the corner-cap of society,
The shape of love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity.
Lon.
I fear, these stubborn lines lack power to move:—
O sweet Maria, empress of my love!—
These numbers will I tear, and write in prose.
Bir.
O, rimes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose;
Disfigure not his slop.
Lon.
This same shall go.—
[reads.
Did not the heavenly rhetorick of thine eye
('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument)
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke, deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but, I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is:
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,
Exhal'st this vapour vow; in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine;
If by me broke, What fool is not so wise,
To lose an oath to win a paradise† note?
Bir.
This is the liver vein, which makes flesh a deity;
A green goose, a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.
Heav'n amend us, Heav'n amend! we're much out o'th'way.
-- 248 --
Enter Dumain, with a Paper.
Lon.
By whom shall I send this? Company! stay.
stepping behind a Tree.
Bir.
All hid, all hid, an old infant play:
Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky,
And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye.
More sacks to the mill! O heav'ns, I have my wish:
Dumain transform'd, four woodcocks in a dish!
Dum.
O most divine Kate!
Bir.
O most profane coxcomb!
Dum.
By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye.
Bir.
By earth, she is not, corporal; there you lye.
Dum.
Her amber hairs for foul hath amber quoted.
Bir.
An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.
Dum.
As upright as the cedar.
Bir.
Stoop, I say;
Her shoulder is with child.
Dum.
As fair as day.
Bir.
Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.
Dum.
O, that I had my wish!
Lon.
And I had mine!
Kin.
And mine too, good Lord* note!
Bir.
Amen! so I had mine: Is not that a good word
Dum.
I would forget her; but a fever she
Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be.
Bir.
A fever in your blood! why, then incision
Would let her out in saucers; Sweet misprision!
Dum.
Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.
Bir.
Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.
Dum.
On a day, (alack the day!)
[reads.
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spy'd a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, 'would I might triumph so!
-- 249 --
But, alack, my hand is sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.
Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee:
Thou, for whom e'en Jove would swear,
Juno but an Ethiope were;
And deny him himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love* note.—
This will I send; and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love's lasting pain.
O, would the king, Biron, and Longaville,
Were lovers too! ill, to example ill,
Would from my forehead pluck a perjur'd note;
For none offend, where all alike do dote.
Lon.
Dumain [advancing.] thy love is far from charity,
That in love's grief desir'st society:
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
To be o'er-heard, and taken napping so.
Kin.
Come, Sir, [advancing.] you blush; as his, your case is such;
You chide at him, offending twice as much:
You do not love Maria. Longaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile.
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush;
I heard your guilty rhimes, observ'd your fashion,
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:
Ay me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;
Her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:
You would for paradise break faith and troth;
And Jove for your love would infringe an oath.
What will Biron say, when that he shall hear
A faith infringed, which such zeal did swear?
-- 250 --
How will he scorn? how will he spend his wit?
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it?
For all the wealth that ever I did see,
I would not have him know so much by me* note.
Bir.
Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.—
[coming from his Tree.
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me:
Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to reprove
These worms for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches in your tears;
There is no certain princess that appears.
You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing.
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not,
All three of you, to be thus much o'er-shot?
You found his mote; the king your mote did see;
But I a beam do find in each of three.
O, what a scene of foolery have I seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen!
O me, with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a king transformed to a gnat!
To see great Hercules whipping a gig,
And profound Solomon to tune a jig,
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And cynic Timon laugh at idle toys!
Where lies thy grief, O, tell me, good Dumain?
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege's? all about the breast:—
A caudle, ho!
Kin.
Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?
Bir.
Not you by me, but I betray'd to you:
I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engaged in;
I am betray'd by keeping company
With vain-like men, of strange inconstancy.
-- 251 --
When shall you see me write a thing in rhime?
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me? When shall you hear, that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb† note?—
Kin.
Soft; Whither away so fast?
A true man, or a thief, that gallops so?
Bir.
I post from love; good lover, let me go.
Enter Jaquenetta, and Costard.
Jaq.
Heav'n bless the king!
[Offering a Paper.
Kin.
What present hast thou there?
Cos.
Some certain treason.
Kin.
What makes treason here?
Cos.
Nay, it makes nothing, Sir.
Kin.
If it mar nothing neither,
The treason, and you, go in peace away together.
Jaq.
I beseech your grace, let this letter be read;
Our parson misdoubts it, 'twas treason, he said.
Kin.
Biron, read it o'er.—
[giving him the Paper.
Where hadst thou it?
Jaq.
Of Costard.
Kin.
Where hadst thou it?
Cos.
Of dun Adramadio, dun Adramadio.
[Biron tears the Paper.
Kin.
How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
Bir.
A toy, my liege, a toy; your grace needs not fear it.
Lon.
It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.
[Gathers up the Pieces.
Dum.
It is Biron's writing, and here is his name.
Bir.
Ah you whoreson loggerhead, [to Cos.] you were born to do me shame.—
Guilty, my liege, guilty; I confess, I confess.
Kin.
What?
Bir.
That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess:
-- 252 --
He, he,—and you,—and you, my liege, and I,
Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.
O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more* note.
Dum.
Now the number is even.
Bir.
True, true; we are four:—
Will these turtles be gone?
Kin.
Hence, Sirs; away.
Cos.
Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.
[Exeunt Cos. and Jaq.
Bir.
Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us embrace!
As true we are, as flesh and blood can be:
The sea will ebb and flow, heaven shew his face;
Young blood doth not obey an old decree:
We cannot cross the cause why we were born;
Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn.
Kin.
What, did these rent lines shew some love of thine?
Bir.
Did they? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,
That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,
At the first opening of the gorgeous east,
Bows not his vassal head; and, strooken blind,
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?
What peremptory eagle-sighted eye
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,
That is not blinded by her majesty† note?
Kin.
What zeal, what fury, hath inspir'd thee now?
My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon;
She, an attendant star, scarce seen a light.
Bir.
My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron:
O, but for my love, day would turn to night!
Of all complections the cull'd sovereignty
Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek;
Where several worthies make one dignity;
Where nothing wants, that want itself doth seek.
-- 253 --
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,—
Fie, painted rhetorick! O, she needs it not:
To things of sale a seller's praise belongs;
She passes praise, and praise too short doth blot.
A wither'd hermit, fivescore winters worn,
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye:
Beauty doth varnish age, as if new born,
And gives the crutch the cradle's infancy* note.
O, 'tis the sun, that maketh all things shine!
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;By heaven, thy love is black as ebony† note.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Is ebony like her? O wood divine!
&blquo;A wife of such wood were felicity.
&blquo;O, who can give an oath? where is a book?
&blquo;That I may swear, beauty doth beauty lack,
&blquo;If that she learn not of her eye to look;
&blquo;No face is fair, that is not full so black.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;O paradox! Black is the badge of hell,
&blquo;The hue of dungeons, and the stole of night;
&blquo;And beauty's crete becomes the heavens well.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.
&blquo;O, if in black my lady's brows be deckt,
&blquo;It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair,
&blquo;Should ravish doters with a false aspect;
&blquo;And therefore is she born to make black fair.
&blquo;Her favour turns the fashion of the days;
&blquo;For native blood is counted painting now:
&blquo;And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise,
&blquo;Paints itself black, to imitate her brow.
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;To look like her, are chimney-sweepers black.
&blquo;Lon.
&blquo;And, since her time, are colliers counted bright.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;And Ethiops of their sweet complection crack.
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Your mistresses dare never come in rain,
&blquo;For fear their colours should be wash'd away.
-- 254 --
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;'Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain,
&blquo;I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;I'll prove her fair, or talk 'till dooms-day here.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;No devil will fright thee then so much as she.
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.
&blquo;Lon.
&blquo;Look, here's thy love; my foot and her face see.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes,
&blquo;Her feet were much too dainty for such tread!
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;O vile! then, as she goes, what upward lies
&blquo;The street should see as she walk'd over head.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;But what of this? are we not all in love?
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, now prove
&blquo;Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil.
&blquo;Lon.
&blquo;O, some authority how to proceed;
&blquo;Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;Some salve for perjury.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;O, 'tis more than need!—
&blquo;Have at you then, affection's men at arms:
&blquo;Consider what you first did swear unto;—
&blquo;To fast,—to study,—and to see no woman;—
&blquo;Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth.
&blquo;Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young;
&blquo;And abstinence engenders maladies.
&blquo;And where that you have vow'd to study, lords,
&blquo;In that each of you hath forsworn his book:
&blquo;Can you still dream, and pore, and thereon look?
&blquo;Why, universal plodding prisons up
&blquo;The nimble spirits in the arteries;
&blquo;As motion, and long-during action, tires
&blquo;The sinewy vigour of the traveller* note.
&blquo;Now, for not looking on a woman's face,
&blquo;You have in that forsworn the use of eyes;
-- 255 --
&blquo;And study too, the causer of your vow:
&blquo;For when would you, my liege,—or you,—or you,—
&blquo;In leaden contemplation, have found out
&blquo;Such fiery numbers, as the prompting eyes
&blquo;Of beauteous tutors have enrich'd you with?
&blquo;Other slow arts entirely keep the brain;
&blquo;And therefore finding barren practisers,
&blquo;Scarce shew a harvest of their heavy toil:
&blquo;But love, first learned in a lady's eyes† note,
&blquo;Lives not alone immured in the brain;
&blquo;But, with the motion of all elements,
&blquo;Courses as swift as thought in every power;
&blquo;And gives to every power a double power,
&blquo;Above their functions and their offices:
&blquo;It adds a precious seeing to the eye,
&blquo;A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
&blquo;A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
&blquo;When the suspicious head of theft is stopt;
&blquo;Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible,
&blquo;Than are the tender horns of cockl'd snails;
&blquo;Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste:
&blquo;For valour, is not love a Hercules,
&blquo;Still climbing trees in the Hesperides?
&blquo;Subtle as Sphynx; as sweet, and musical,
&blquo;As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair;
&blquo;And, when love speaks, the voice of all the gods
&blquo;Makes heaven drowsy with the harmony.
&blquo;Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
&blquo;Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs;
&blquo;O, then his lines would ravish savage ears,
&blquo;And plant in tyrants mild humility.
&blquo;From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
&blquo;They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
&blquo;They are the books, the arts, the academes,
&blquo;That shew, contain, and nourish all the world;
&blquo;Else, none at all in ought proves excellent:
&blquo;Then fools you were, these women to forswear;
-- 256 --
&blquo;Or, keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.
&blquo;For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love;
&blquo;Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men;
&blquo;Or for men's sake, the authors of these women;
&blquo;Or women's sake, by whom we men are men;
&blquo;Let us once lose our oaths to find ourselves,
&blquo;Or else we lose our selves to keep our oaths:
&blquo;It is religion, to be thus forsworn:
&blquo;For charity itself fulfills the law;
&blquo;And who can sever love from charity?
Kin.
Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field!
Bir.
Advance your standards, and upon them, lords;
Pell mell, down with them! but be first advis'd,
In conflict that you get the sun of them.
Lon.
Now to plain dealing; lay these glozes by:
Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?
Kin.
And win them too; therefore let us devise
Some entertainment for them in their tents.
Bir.
First, from the park let us conduct them thither;
Then homeward, every man attach the hand
Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon
We will with some strange pastime solace them,
Such as the shortness of the time can shape;
For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours,
Fore-run fair love, strewing her way with flowers.
Kin.
Away, away! no time shall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by us be fitted.
Bir.
Allons, allons!—Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn;
And justice always whirls in equal measure:
Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn;
If so, our copper buys no better treasure.
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another Part of the same.
Enter Sir Nathaniel, Holofernes, and Dull.
Hol.
Satis quod sufficit.
Nat.
I praise Heav'n for you, Sir; your reasons at
dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without
scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without
impudency, learned without opinion, and strange
without heresy. I did converse this quondam day with
-- 257 --
a companion of the king's, who is intituled, nominated,
or called, Don Adriano de Armado.
Hol.
Novi hominem tanquam te: His humour is lofty,
his discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye ambitious,
his gait majestical, and his general behaviour
vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical: he is too piked, too
spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too peregrinate,
as I may call it.
Nat.
A most singular and choice epithet.
[Pulling out his Tables.
Hol.
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer
than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical
phantasms, such insociable and point-devise companions;
such rackers of orthography, as to speak, dout,
fine, when he should say, doubt; det, when he should
pronounce, debt; d, e, b, t, not d, e, t,: he clepeth a
calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour, vocatur, nebour!
neigh, abbreviated, ne: this is abhominable, (which he
would call, abominable) it insinuateth me of insanie;
Ne intelligis, domine? to make frantick, lunatic* note.
Nat.
Laus deo, bone intelligo.
Hol.
Bone? bone for bene: Priscian a little scratch'd a
'twill serve.
Enter Moth, Costard, and Armado.
Nat.
Videsne quis venit?
Hol.
Video, et gaudeo.
Arm.
Chirra!
[to Moth.
Hol.
Quare Chirra, not sirrah?
Arm.
Men of peace, well encounter'd.
Hol.
Most military Sir, salutation.
Mot.
They have been at a great feast of languages,
and have stoln the scraps.
Cos.
O, they have liv'd long on the alms-basket of
words! I marvel, thy master hath not eaten thee for a
word; for thou art not so long by the head as, honorificabilitudinitatibus:
-- 258 --
thou art easier swallow'd than a
flap-dragon.
Mot.
Peace; the peal begins.
Arm.
Monsieur, [to Hol.] are you not letter'd?
Mot.
Yes, yes; he teaches boys the horn-book:—
What is a, b, spelt backward, with the horn on his head?
Hol.
Ba, pueritia, with horn added.
Mot.
Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn:—You hear
his learning.
Hol.
Quis, quis, thou consonant?
Mot.
The third of the five vowels, if you repeat
them; or the fifth, if I.
Hol.
I will repeat them; a, e, i,—
Mot.
The sheep: the other two concludes it; o, u.
Arm.
Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a
sweet touch, a quick venew of wit: snip snap, quick
and home; it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit.
Mot.
Offer'd by a child to an old man; which is, wit-old.
Hol.
What is the figure? what is the figure?
Mot.
Horns.
Hol.
Thou disput'st like an infant: go, whip thy gig.
Mot.
Lend me your horn to make one, and I will
whip about your infámie circum circá; a gig of a
cuckold's horn!
Cos.
An I had but one penny in the world, thou
shouldst have it to buy ginger-bread: hold, there is the
very remuneration I had of thy master, thou halfpenny
purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O, an the
heavens were so pleased, that thou wert but my bastard!
what a joyful father would'st thou make me? Go to;
thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers' end, as they say.
Hol.
O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for unguem.
Arm.
Arts-man, præambula; we will be singl'd from
the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the charge-house
on the top of the mountain?
Hol.
Or, mons, the hill.
Arm.
At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain?
Hol.
I do, sans question.
Arm.
Sir, it is the king's most sweet pleasure and
affection, to congratulate the princess at her pavilion,
-- 259 --
in the posteriors of this day; which the rude multitude
call, the afternoon.
Hol.
The posterior of the day, most generous Sir, is
liable, congruent, and measurable for the afternoon:
the word is well cull'd, chose; sweet and apt, I do
assure you, Sir, I do assure.
Arm.
Sir, the king is a noble gentleman; and my
familiar, I do assure you, my very good friend: For
what is inward between us, let it pass:—I do beseech
thee, refrain thy courtesy: I beseech thee apparel thy
head:—and among other importunate and most serious
designs,—and of great import, indeed, too; but let that
pass:—for I must tell thee, it will please his grace, (by
the world) sometime to lean upon my poor shoulder;
and with his royal finger, thus, dally with my excrement,
with my mustachio: but, sweet heart, let that
pass: By the world, I recount no fable; some certain
special honours it pleaseth his greatness to impart to
Armado, a soldier, a man of travel, that hath seen the
world: but let that pass. The very all of all is,—but,
sweet heart, I do implore secresy,—that the King would
have me present the Princess, sweet chuck, with some
delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antick,
or firework: now, understanding that the curate, and
your sweet self, are good at such eruptions and sudden
breakings-out of mirth, as it were, I have acquainted
you withal, to the end to crave your assistance* note.
Hol.
Sir, you shall present before her the nine worthies.
—Sir Nathaniel, as concerning some entertainment
of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to be
render'd by our assistance,—at the King's command;
and this most gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman,
—before the Princess; I say, none so fit as to present
the nine worthies.
Nat.
Where will you find men worthy enough to present
them?
-- 260 --
Hol.
Joshua, yourself; myself, or this gallant gentleman,
Judas Maccabæus; this swain, because of his
great limb or joint, shall pass for Pompey the great; the
page, Hercules.
Arm.
Pardon, Sir, error: he is not quantity enough
for that worthy's thumb; he is not so big as the end of
his club.
Hol.
Shall I have audience? he shall present Hercules
in minority: his enter and exit shall be, strangling a
snake; and I will have an apology for that purpose.
Mot.
An excellent device! so, if any of the audience
hiss, you may cry, Well done, Hercules! now thou crushest
the snake! that is the way to make an offence gracious;
though few have the grace to do it.
Arm.
For the rest of the worthies?—
Hol.
I will play three myself.
Mot.
Thrice-worthy gentleman!
Arm.
Shall I tell you a thing?
Hol.
We attend.
Arm.
We will have, if this fadge not, an antick. I
beseech you follow.
Hol.
Via, goodman, Dull! thou hast spoken no word
all this while.
Dul.
Nor understood none neither, Sir.
Hol.
Allons! we will employ thee.
Dul.
I'll make one in a dance, or so: or I will play on
the tabor to the worthies, and let them dance the hay.
Hol.
Most dull, honest Dull, to our sport, away* note.
-- 261 --
ACT V.
Scene
SCENE, Another Part of the same; before the Tents.
Enter the Princess, Catherine, Rosaline, and Maria.
Princess.
Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in;
A lady wall'd about with diamonds:
Look you, what I have from the loving King.
Ros.
Madam, came nothing else along with that?
Pri.
Nothing but this? yes, as much love in rhyme,
As would be cram'd up in a sheet of paper,
Writ on both sides the leaf, margent and all;
That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.
Ros.
That was the way to make his godhead wax;
For he hath been five thousand years a boy.
Cat.
Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
Ros.
You'll ne'er be friends with him; a' kill'd your sister.
Cat.
He made her melancholy, sad and heavy;
And so she dy'd: had she been light, like you,
Of such a merry, nimble-stirring spirit,
She might have been a grandame ere she dy'd:
And so may you; for a light heart lives long.
Ros.
What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?
Cat.
A light condition in a beauty dark.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;We need more light to find your meaning out.
&blquo;Cat.
&blquo;You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff;
&blquo;Therefore, I'll darkly end the argument.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Look, what you do, you do it still i'the dark.
&blquo;Cat.
&blquo;So do not you; for you are a light wench.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Indeed, I weigh not you; and therefore light.
&blquo;Cat.
&blquo;You weigh me not,—O, that's you care not for me.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Great reason; for, Past cure is still past care.
Pri.
Well bandy'd both; a set of wit well play'd.
But, Rosaline, you have a favour too:
Who sent it? and what is't?
-- 262 --
Ros.
I would, you knew:
And if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favour were as great; be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron:
The numbers true; and, were the numbring too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground:
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!
Pri.
Any thing like?
Ros.
Much, in the letters; nothing, in the praise.
&blquo;Pri.
&blquo;Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.
&blquo;Cat.
&blquo;Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Ware pencils! How? let me not die your debter,
&blquo;My red dominical, my golden letter:
&blquo;O, that your face were not so full of O's!
&blquo;Cat.
&blquo;A pox of that jest! and beshrew all shrows!
Pri.
But what was sent to you from fair Dumain?
Cat.
Madam, this glove.
Pri.
Did he not send you twain?
Cat.
Yes, Madam, that he did; and sent, moreover,
Some thousand verses of a faithful lover:
&blquo;A huge translation of hypocrisy,
&blquo;Vilely compil'd, profound simplicity.
Mar.
This, and these pearls, to me sent Longaville;
The letter is too long by half a mile.
Pri.
I think no less; Dost thou not wish in heart,
The chain were longer, and the letter short?
Mar.
Ay, or I would these hands might never part.
Pri.
We are wise girls, to mock our lovers so.
Ros.
They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Biron I'll torture ere I go.
&blquo;O, that I knew he were but in by the week!
&blquo;How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek;
&blquo;And wait the season, and observe the times,
&blquo;And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhimes;
&blquo;And shape his service all to my behests;
&blquo;And make him proud to make me proud with jests:
&blquo;So, pageant-like, would I o'er-sway his state,
&blquo;That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
Pri.
None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd,
As wit turn'd fool: folly, in wisdom hatch'd,
-- 263 --
Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school,
And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.
Ros.
The blood of youth burns not with such excess
As gravity's revolt to wantonness.
Mar.
Folly in fools bears not so strong a note,
As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote;
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.
Enter Boyet.
Pri.
Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
Boy.
O, I am stab'd with laughter!—Where's her grace?
Pri.
Thy news, Boyet?
Boy.
Prepare, madame, prepare!
Arm, wenches, arm!—encounters mounted are
Against your peace: Love doth approach disguis'd,
Armed in arguments; you'll be surpriz'd:
Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.
Pri.
Saint Dennis to saint Cupid! What are they,
That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.
Boy.
Under the cool shade of a sycamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour:
When, lo, to interrupt my purpos'd rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest
The king and his companions: warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And over-heard what you shall over-hear;
That, by and by, disguis'd they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
That well by heart hath con'd his embassage:
Action, and accent, did they teach him there;
Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear:
And ever and anon they made a doubt,
Presence majestical would put him out;
For, quoth the king, an angel shalt thou see;
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously:
The boy reply'd, An angel is not evil:
I should have fear'd her, had she been a devil.
With that all laugh'd, and clap'd him on the shoulder;
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.
-- 264 --
&blquo;One rub'd his elbow thus; and fleer'd, and swore,
&blquo;A better speech was never spoke before:
&blquo;Another, with his finger and his thumb,
&blquo;Cry'd, Via! we will do't; come what will come:
&blquo;The third he caper'd, and cry'd, All goes well:
&blquo;The fourth turn'd on the toe; and down he fell:
&blquo;With that, they all did tumble on the ground;
&blquo;With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
&blquo;That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
&blquo;To check their folly, passion's solemn tears.
Pri.
But what, but what, come they to visit us?
Boy.
They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,
Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess.
Their purpose is, to parle, to court, and dance:
And every one his love-seat will advance
Unto his several mistress; which they'll know
By favours several, which they did bestow* note
Pri.
And will they so? the gallants shall be taskt,
For, ladies, we will every one be maskt;
And not a man of them shall have the grace,
Despight of suit, to see a lady's face.—
Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear:
And then the king will court thee for his dear:
Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine;
So shall Biron take me for Rosaline.
And change you favours too: so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes† note.
Ros.
Come on then; wear the favours most in sight.
Cat.
But, in this changing, what is your intent?
Pri.
The effect of my intent is, to cross theirs:
They do it but in mocking merriment;
And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their several counsels they unbosom shall
To loves mistook; and so be mock'd withal,
-- 265 --
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With visages display'd, to talk, and greet.
Ros.
But shall we dance, if they desire us to't?
Pri.
No, to the death we will not move a foot:
Nor to their pen'd speech render we no grace;
But, while 'tis spoke, each turn away her face.
Boy.
Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart,
And quite divorce his memory from his part.
Pri.
Therefore I do it; and, I make no doubt,
The rest will ne'er come in, if he be out.
There's no such sport, as sport by sport o'erthrown;
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own:
So shall we stay, mocking intended game;
And they, well mock'd, depart away with shame.
[Trumpets within.
Boy.
The trumpet sounds; be mask'd, the maskers come.
Flourish. Enter, in Russian Habits, and mask'd, the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain; with Moth, Musick, and Attendants.
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!
&blquo;Boy.
&blquo;Beauties no richer than rich taffata.
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;A holy parcel of the fairest dames,
[the Ladies turn their Backs to him.
&blquo;That ever turn'd their—backs—to mortal views!
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Their eyes, villain, their eyes.
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views!
&blquo;Out—
&blquo;Boy.
&blquo;True; out, indeed.
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe
&blquo;Not to behold—
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Once to behold, rogue.
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes
&blquo;&lblank;with your sun-beamed eyes—
&blquo;Boy.
&blquo;They will not answer to that epithet;
&blquo;You were best call it, daughter-beamed eyes.
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;They do not mark me, and that brings me out.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue.
[Moth withdraws.
Ros.
What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet:
-- 266 --
If they do speak our language, 'tis our will
That some plain man recount their purposes:
Know what they would.
Boy.
What would you with the princess?
Bir.
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros.
What would they, say they?
Boy.
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros.
Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.
Boy.
She says you have it, and you may be gone.
Kin.
Say to her, we have measur'd many miles,
To tread a measure with her on this grass.
Boy.
They say, that they have measur'd many a mile,
To tread a measure with you on this grass.
Ros.
It is not so: Ask them, how many inches
Is in one mile: if they have measur'd many,
The measure then of one is eas'ly told.
Boy.
If, to come hither, you have measur'd miles,
And many miles; the princess bids you tell,
How many inches doth fill up one mile.
Bir.
Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
Boy.
She hears herself.
Ros.
How many weary steps,
[advancing.
Of many weary miles, you have o'ergone,
Are number'd in the travel of one mile?
Bir.
We number nothing that we spend for you;
Our duty is so rich, so infinite,
That we may do it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to shew the sun-shine of your face,
That we, like savages, may worship it.
Ros.
My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
Kin.
Blessed are clouds, that do as such clouds do!
Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine
(Those clouds remov'd) upon our wat'ry eyne.
Ros.
O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;
Thou now request'st but moon-shine in the water.
Kin.
Then in our measure do but vouchsafe one change:
Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange.
Ros.
Play, musick, then: Nay, you must do it soon.
[Musick: and they make ready, as to dance.
Not yet; no dance; thus change I like the moon.
Kin.
Will you not dance? how come you thus estrang'd?
Ros.
You took the moon at full; but now she's chang'd.
-- 267 --
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;The musick plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Our ears vouchsafe it.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;But your legs should do it.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,
&blquo;We'll not be nice: take hands;—we will not dance.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Why take we hands then?
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Only to part friends:—
&blquo;Court'sy, sweet hearts;—and so the measure ends.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;More measure of this measure; be not nice.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;We can afford no more at such a price.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;Prize yourselves then; What buys your company?
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Your absence only.
&blquo;Kin.
&blquo;That can never be.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Then cannot we be bought: And so adieu;
&blquo;Twice to your visor, and half once to you!
Kin.
If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.
Ros.
In private then.
[converse apart.
Bir.
White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
Pri.
Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.
Bir.
Nay, then, two treys, (an if you grow so nice)
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey;—Well run, dice!—
There's half a dozen sweets.
Pri.
Seventh sweet, adieu!
Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.
Bir.
One word in secret.
Pri.
Let it not be sweet.
Bir.
Thou griev'st my gall.
Pri.
Gall? bitter.
Bir.
Therefore meet.
[converse apart.
Dum.
Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
Mar.
Name it.
Dum.
Fair lady,—
Mar.
Say you so? Fair lord,—
Take that for your fair lady.
Dum.
Please it you,
As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.
[converse apart.
Cat.
What, was your visor made without a tongue?
Lon.
I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
Cat.
O, for your reason! quickly, Sir; I long.
Lon.
You have a double tongue within your mask,
-- 268 --
And would afford my speechless visor half.
Cat.
Veal, quoth the Dutchman;—Is not veal a calf?
Lon.
A calf, fair lady?
Cat.
No, a fair lord calf.
Lon.
Let's part the word.
Cat.
No, I'll not be your half:
Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.
Lon.
Look, how you but yourself in these sharp mocks;
Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
Cat.
Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.
Lon.
One word in private with you, ere I die.
Cat.
Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you cry.
[converse apart.
Boy.
The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the razor's edge invisible,
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;
Above the sense of sense: so sensible
Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings,
* noteFleeter than arrows, wind, thought, swifter things.
Ros.
Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.
[breaking from the King.
Bir.
By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure pure scoff!
Kin.
Adieu, mad wenches; you have simple wits.
Pri.
Twenty adieu's, my frozen Muscovites.—
[Exeunt King, and his Lords; Moth, Mus. and Att.
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?
Boy.
Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puft out.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross, fat, fat.
&blquo;Pri.
&blquo;O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
&blquo;Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night?
&blquo;Or ever, but in visors, shew their faces?
&blquo;This pert Biron was out of count'nance quite.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;O, they were all in lamentable cases!
&blquo;The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.
Pri.
Biron did swear himself out of all suit.
Mar.
Dumain was at my service, and his sword:
No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.
-- 269 --
Cat.
Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart;
And trow you what he call'd me?
Pri.
Qualm, perhaps.
Cat.
Yes, in good faith.
Pri.
Go, sickness as thou art!
Ros.
Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps.
But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.
Pri.
And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Cat.
And Longaville was for my service born.
Mar.
Dumain is mine as sure as bark on tree.
Boy.
Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear:
Immediately they will again be here
In their own shapes; for it can never be,
They will digest this harsh indignity.
Pri.
Will they return?
Boy.
They will, they will, Heav'n knows;
And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:
Therefore change favours; and, when they repair,
Blow like sweet roses in the summer air.
Pri.
How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.
Boy.
Fair ladies, maskt, are roses in their bud;
Dismaskt, their damask sweet commixture shown,
Are angels 'vailing clouds, or roses blown.
Pri.
Avaunt, perplexity!—What shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo?
Ros.
Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd,
Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd:
Let us complain to them, what fools were here,
Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;
And wonder, what they were; and to what end
Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely pen'd,
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our tent to us.
Boy.
Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at hand.
Pri.
Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er the land.
[Exeunt Princess, Cat. Ros. and Mar.
Re-enter, in their proper Habits, the King, attended; Dumain, Biron, Longaville, and Others.
Kin.
Fair Sir, Heav'n save you! Where's the princess?
Boy.
Gone to her tent: Please it your majesty,
-- 270 --
Command me any service to her thither?
Kin.
That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
Boy.
I will; and so will she, I know, my lord.
[Exit Boyet.
Bir.
This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons pease;
And utters it again, when Heav'n doth please:
He is wit's pedlar; and retails his wares
At wakes, and wassels, meetings, markets, fairs;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve:
A' can carve too, and lisp: Why, this is he
That kist his hand away in courtesy;
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms: nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can: the ladies call him, sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet:
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To shew his teeth as white as whale his bone:
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongu'd Boyet.
Kin.
A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,
That put Armado's page out of his part!
Re-enter the Princess, Boyet ushering her, Maria, Catherine, Rosaline, and Attendants.
Bir.
See, where it comes!—Behaviour, what wert thou,
'Till this man shew'd thee? and what art thou now?
Kin.
All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!
Pri.
Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive.
Kin.
Construe my speeches better, if you may.
Pri.
Then wish me better, I will give you leave.
Kin.
We came to visit you; and purpose now
To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then.
Pri.
This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:
Nor Heav'n, nor I, delights in perjur'd men.
Kin.
Rebuke me not for that which you provoke;
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
-- 271 --
Pri.
You nick-name virtue; vice you should have spoke;
For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unsully'd lilly, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest:
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
Kin.
O, you have liv'd in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
Pri.
Not so, my lord, it is not so, I swear,
We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game;
A mess of Russians left us but of late.
Kin.
How, madam? Russians?
Pri.
Ay, in truth, my lord;
Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.
Ros.
Madam, speak true:—It is not so, my lord;
My lady, (to the manner of the days)
In courtesy, gives undeserving praise.
We four, indeed, confronted were with four
In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace; but, in that hour, my lord,
They did not bless us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.
Bir.
This jest is dry to me.—Fair gentle sweet,
Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet
With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light: Your capacity
Is of that nature, that, to your huge store,
Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor.
Ros.
This proves you wise, and rich: for, in my eye,—
Bir.
I am a fool, and full of poverty.
Ros.
But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
Bir.
O, I am yours, and all that I possess.
Ros.
All the fool mine?
Bir.
I cannot give you less.
Ros.
Which of the visors was it, that you wore?
Bir.
Where? when? what visor? why demand you this?
-- 272 --
Ros.
There, then, that visor; that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face.
Kin.
We are descry'd; they'll mock us now downright.
Dum.
Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.
Pri.
Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your highness sad?
Ros.
Help! hold his brows! he'll swoon! why look you pale?—
Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy* note.
Bir.
Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.
Can any face of brass hold longer out?—
Here stand I, lady: dart thy skill at me,
Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout,
Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance,
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;
And I will with thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.
&blquo;O, never will I trust to speeches pen'd,
&blquo;Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue;
&blquo;Nor never come in visor to my friend;
&blquo;Nor woo in rhime, like a blind harper's song:
&blquo;Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,
&blquo;Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation,
&blquo;Figures pedantical; these summer flies
&blquo;Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:
&blquo;I do forswear them: and I here protest† note,
By this white glove, (how white the hand, Heav'n knows)
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be exprest
In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:
And, to begin, wench,—so Heav'n help me, la!—
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Sans, sans, I pray you.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Yet I have a trick
&blquo;Of the old rage:—bear with me, I am sick;
-- 273 --
&blquo;I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see,—
&blquo;Write, Lord have mercy on us, on those three;
&blquo;They are infected, in their hearts it lies,
&blquo;They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
&blquo;These lords are visited; you are not free,
&blquo;For the Lord's tokens on you do I see.
&blquo;Pri.
&blquo;No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;It is not so; For how can this be true,
&blquo;That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Peace; for I will not have to do with you.
&blquo;Ros.
&blquo;Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an end.
[To his Friends, retiring.
Kin.
Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression
Some fair excuse.
Pri.
The fairest is confession.
Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd?
Kin.
Madam, I was.
Pri.
And were you well advis'd?
Kin.
I was, fair madam.
Pri.
When you then were here,
What did you whisper in your lady's ear?
Kin.
That more than all the world I did respect her.
Pri.
When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.
Kin.
Upon mine honour, no.
Pri.
Peace, peace, forbear;
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
Kin.
Despise me when I break this oath of mine.
Pri.
I will; and therefore keep it:—Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
Ros.
Madam, he swore, that he did love me dear
As precious eye-sight; and did value me
Above this world: adding thereto, moreover,
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
Pri.
Heav'n give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honourably doth uphold his word.
Kin.
What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,
I never swore this lady such an oath.
Ros.
By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,
You gave me this: but take it, Sir, again.
-- 274 --
Kin.
My faith, and this, the princess I did give;
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.
Pri.
Pardon me, Sir, this jewel did she wear;
And lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear:—
What; will you have me, or your pearl again?
Bir.
Neither of either; I remit both twain.—
* noteI see the trick on't,—Here was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
&blquo;To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
&blquo;Some carry-tale, some please-man, some zany,
&blquo;Some mumble-news, some trencher knight, some Dick,—
&blquo;That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick
&blquo;To make my lady laugh, when she's dispos'd,—
&blquo;Told our intents before: which once disclos'd,
The ladies did change favours; and then we,
Following the signs, woo'd but the sign of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn; in will, and error.
Much upon this it is:—And might not you
[to Boy.
Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by the squire?
And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
And stand between her back, Sir, and the fire;
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
You put our page out: Go, you are allow'd;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shrowd.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword.
Boy.
Full merrily
Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
Bir.
Lo, he is tilting straight!—Peace; I have done.—
Enter Costard.
Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
Cos.
O lord, Sir, they would know,
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no.
Bir.
What, are there but three?
Cos.
No, Sir; but it is vara fine,
-- 275 --
For every one pursents three.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;And three times thrice is nine.
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;Not so, Sir; under correction, Sir; I hope, it is not so:
&blquo;You cannot beg us, Sir, I assure you, Sir; we know what we know:
&blquo;I hope, Sir, three times thrice, Sir,—
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Is not nine.
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;Under correction, Sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;O lord, Sir, it were pity you should get your
living by reck'ning, Sir.&brquo;
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;How much is it?&brquo;
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;O lord, Sir, the parties themselves, the actors,
Sir, will shew whereuntil it doth amount:&brquo; for mine
own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man in
one poor man; Pompion the great, Sir.
Bir.
Art thou one of the worthies?
Cos.
It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pompion
the great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of
the worthy; but I am to stand for him.
Bir.
Go, bid them prepare.
Cos.
We will turn it finely off, Sir, we will take some care.
[Exit Costard.
Kin.
Biron, they will shame us; let them not approach.
Bir.
We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis some policy,
To have one show worse than the king's and his company.
Kin.
I say, they shall not come.
Pri.
Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now;
That sport most pleases, that doth least know how:
When zeal strives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents,
There form confounded makes most form in mirth;
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
Bir.
A right description of our sport, my lord.
Enter Armado.
Arm.
Anointed, I implore so much expence of thy
royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.
[Converses apart with the King, and delivers him a Paper.
-- 276 --
Pri.
Doth this man serve Heav'n?
Bir.
Why ask you?
Pri.
He speaks not like a man of Heav'n's making.
Arm.
That is all one, my fair sweet honey monárch:
for, I protest, the school-master is exceeding fantastical;
too too vain, too too vain: But we will put it, as they
say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the peace of
mind, most royal couplement!
[Exit Armado.
Kin.
Here is like to be a good presence of worthies:
He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great;
the parish curate, Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules;
the pedant, Judas Machabeus:
And if these four worthies in their first shew thrive,
These four will change habits, and present the other five.
Bir.
There is five in the first shew.
Kin.
You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so.
Bir.
The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the
fool, and the boy:—
A bare throw at novem; and the whole world again
Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.
[Seats brought forth.
Kin.
The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.
Pageant of the nine Worthies.
Flourish. Enter, arm'd and accouter'd, his Scutcheon born before him, Costard for Pompey.
Cos.
I Pompey am,—
Bir.
You lie, you are not he.
Cos.
I Pompey am,—
Boy.
With Libbard's head on knee.
Bir.
Well said, old mocker; I must needs be friends with thee.
* noteCos.
I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,—
Dum.
The great.
Cos.
It is great, Sir;—Pompey surnam'd the great;
That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat:
-- 277 --
And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance;
And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France.
[Does his Obeisance to the Princess.
If your ladyship would say, ‘thanks, Pompey,’ I had done.
Pri.
Great thanks, great Pompey.
Cos.
'Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was
perfect: I made a little fault in, great.
[Retires.
Bir.
My hat to a half-penny, Pompey proves the best worthy.
[Flourish.
Enter, arm'd, &c. Nathaniel, for Alexander† note.
Nat.
When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;
By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might.
My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander;—
Boy.
Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.
Bir.
Your nose smells, no, in his, most tender-smelling knight.
Pri.
The conqueror is dismay'd:—Proceed, good Alisander.
Nat.
When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander;—
Boy.
Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander.
Bir.
Pompey the great,—
Cos.
Your servant, and Costard.
[Advancing.
Bir.
Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.
Cos.
O, Sir, [to Nat.] you have overthrown Alisander
the conqueror! You will be scrap'd out of the painted
cloth for this: your lion, that holds his polax sitting on
a close-stool, will he given to A-jax; he will be the ninth
worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for
shame, Alisander.—[Nat. retires.] There, an't shall
please you! a foolish mild man; and honest man, look
you, and soon dash'd! He is a marvelous good neighbour,
in sooth; and a very good bowler: but for Alisander,
-- 278 --
—alas! you see, how 'tis; a little o'er-parted:
But there are worthies a coming, will speak their mind
in some other sort.
[Flourish.
Pri.
Stand aside, good Pompey.
Enter, arm'd, &c. Holofernes for Judas, and Moth for Hercules.
Hol.
Great Hercules is presented by this imp,
[Presenting Moth.
Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canus;
And, when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,
Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus:
Quoniam he seemeth in minority,
Ergo I come with this apology.—
Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish.
[Moth does his Obeisance, and retires.
Judas I am,—
Dum.
A Judas!
Hol.
Not Iscariot, Sir.—
Judas I am, ycleped Machabeus;—
Dum.
Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas.
Bir.
A kissing traitor:—How art thou prov'd Judas?
Hol.
Judas I am,—
Dum.
The more shame for you, Judas.
Hol.
What mean you, Sir?
Boy.
To make Judas hang himself.
Hol.
Begin, Sir; you are my elder.
Bir.
Well follow'd; Judas was hang'd on an elder.
Hol.
I will not be put out of countenance.
Bir.
Because thou hast no face.
Hol.
What is this?
Boy.
A cithern head.
Dum.
The head of a bodkin.
Bir.
A death's face in a ring.
Lon.
The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
Boy.
The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion.
Dum.
The carv'd-bone face on a flask.
Bir.
Saint George's half cheek in a brooch.
Dum.
Ay, and in a brooch of lead* note.
-- 279 --
Bir.
Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer: And
now, forward; for we have put thee in countenance.
Hol.
You have put me out of countenance.
Bir.
False; we have given thee faces.
Hol.
But you have out-fac'd them all.
Bir.
An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
Boy.
Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go.—
And so, adieu, sweet Jude! Nay, why dost thou stay?
Dum.
For the latter end of his name.
Bir.
For the ass to the Jude; give it him:—Jud-as, away.
Hol.
This is not generous, nor gentle, nor humble.
Boy.
A light to monsieur Judas; it grows dark, he may stumble.
[Holofernes retires.
Pri.
Alas, poor Machabeus; how hath he been baited!
Flourish. Enter, arm'd, &c. Armado, for Hector.
Bir.
Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms.
Dum.
Though my mocks come home by me, I will
now be merry.
Kin.
Hector was but a Trojan in respect to this.
Boy.
But is this Hector?
Kin.
I think Hector was not so clean-timber'd.
Lon.
His leg is too big for Hector's?
Dum.
More calf, certain.
Boy.
No, he is best endu'd in the small.
Bir.
This cannot be Hector.
Dum.
He's a god, or a painter; for he makes faces.
Arm.
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift,—
Dum.
Gift! a nutmeg.
Bir.
A lemon.
Lon.
Stuck with cloves.
Dum.
No, cloven.
Arm.
Peace!
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breath'd, that, certain, he would fight, yea,
From morn 'till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,—
Dum.
That mint.
-- 280 --
Lon.
That columbine.
Arm.
Sweet lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.
Lon.
I must rather give it the rein; for it runs against
Hector.
Dum.
Ay, and Hector's a grey-hound.
Arm.
The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet
chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he
breath'd, he was a man.—But I will forward with my
devices;—sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.
[Biron steps to Costard, and whispers him.
&blquo;Pri.
&blquo;Speak, brave Hector; we are much delighted.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.&brquo;
&blquo;Boy.
&blquo;Loves her by the foot.&brquo;
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;He may not by the yard.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,—&brquo;
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone;
she is two months on her way.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;What meanest thou?&brquo;
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;'Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the
poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags
in her belly already; 'tis yours.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Dost thou infamonize me among potentates?
thou shalt die.&brquo;
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;Then shall Hector be whip'd, for Jaquenetta
that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pompey that
is dead by him.&brquo;
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;Most rare Pompey!&brquo;
&blquo;Boy.
&blquo;Renown'd Pompey!&brquo;
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey;
Pompey the huge!&brquo;
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;Hector trembles.&brquo;
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Pompey is mov'd:—More Ates, more Ates;
stir them on, stir them on!&brquo;
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;Hector will challenge him.&brquo;
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;Ay, if a'have no more man's blood in his belly
than will sup a flea.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;By the north pole, I do challenge thee.&brquo;
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;I will not fight with a pole, like a northern
man; I'll slash, I'll do it by the sword:—I pray you,
let me borrow my arms again.&brquo;
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;Room for the incens'd worthies.&brquo;
-- 281 --
&blquo;Cos.
&blquo;I'll do it in my shirt.&brquo;
[Stripping.
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;Most resolute Pompey!&brquo;
&blquo;Mot.
&blquo;Master, [coming up to Arm. and whispering
him.] let me take you a button hole lower: Do you
not see, Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What
mean you? you will lose your reputation.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me, I will
not combat in my shirt.&brquo;
&blquo;Dum.
&blquo;You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge.&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;Sweet bloods, I both may and will.&brquo;
&blquo;Bir.
&blquo;What reason have you for't?&brquo;
&blquo;Arm.
&blquo;The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I
go woolward for penance* note.&brquo;
Mot.
True, [to the Lords, aside.] and it was enjoin'd
him in Rome for want of linnen; since when, I'll be
sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's;
and that a' wears next his heart for a favour.
Enter Mercade.
Mer.
Heav'n save you, madam!
Pri.
Welcome, good Mercade;
But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.
Mer.
I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring;
'Tis heavy on my tongue: The king your father—
Pri.
Dead, for my life.
Mer.
Even so: my tale is told.
Bir.
Worthies, away; the scene begins to cloud.
Arm.
For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I
have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of
discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier.
[Exeunt Worthies, their Trumpets, and Retinue.
Kin.
How fares your majesty?
Pri.
Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
Kin.
Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
Pri.
Prepare, I say.—I thank you, gracious lords,
-- 282 --
For all your fair endeavours; and intreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe,
In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide,
The liberal opposition of our spirits:
If over-boldly we have born ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it.—Farewel, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.
Kin.
The extream parts of time extreamly form
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love
The holy suit which fain it would convince;
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
From what it purpos'd; since, to wail friends lost,
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable,
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
Pri.
I understand you not, my griefs are deaf.
Bir.
Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;—
And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths; your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,—
As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth rowl
To every vary'd object in his glance* note:
-- 283 --
Which party-coated presence of loose love,
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
'T hath misbecom'd our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make them: Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both, fair ladies, you;
And even that falshood, in itself a fin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.
Pri.
We have receiv'd your letters, full of love;
Your favours, the embassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this, in our respects,
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum.
Our letters, madam, shew'd much more than jest.
Lon.
So did our looks.
Ros.
We did not quote them so.
Kin.
Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
Pri.
A time, methinks, too short
* noteTo make a world-without-end bargain in:
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore, this,—
If for my love (as there is no such cause)
You will do ought, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust: but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning:
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,
-- 284 --
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge me, challenge by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine: and 'till that instant, shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house;
Raining the tears of lamentation,
For the remembrance of my father's death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part,
Neither intitl'd in the other's heart† note.
Kin.
If this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
Dum.
But what to me, my love? but what to me?
Cat.
A wife! A beard, fair health, and honesty;
With threefold love I wish you all these three.
Dum.
O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
Cat.
Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a day
I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say:
Come when the King doth to my lady come,
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.
Dum.
I'll serve thee true and faithfully 'till then.
Cat.
Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Lon.
What says Maria?
Mar.
At the twelvemonth's end,
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Lon.
I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar.
The liker you; few taller are so young.
Bir.
Studies my lady? mistress, look on me,
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there;
Impose some service on me for thy love.
Ros.
Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron,
Before I saw you: and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
-- 285 --
Full of comparisons, and wounding flouts;
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit:
To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And therewithal, to win me, if you please,
(Without the which I am not to be won)
You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile* note.
Bir.
To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
Ros.
Why, that's the way to choak a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools;
A jest's prosperity lives in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
Deaft with the clamours of their own dear groans,
Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
And I will have you, and that fault withal;
But, if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.
Bir.
A twelvemonth? well, befall what will befall,
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.
Pri.
Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave.
[Breaking Converse with the King, and curtsying.
Kin.
No, madam; we will bring you on your way.
Bir.
Our wooing doth not end like an old play† note;
Jack hath not Gill: these ladies' courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.
Kin.
Come, Sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,
And then 'twill end.
-- 286 --
Bir.
That's too long for a play† note.
Enter Armado.
Arm.
Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me.
[To the King.
Pri.
Was not that Hector?
Dum.
The worthy knight of Troy.
Arm.
I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave:
I am a votary; I have vow'd to Jaquenetta, to hold
the plough for her sweet love three year. But, most
esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that
the two learned men have compiled, in praise of the
owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end
of our shew.
Kin.
Call them forth quickly, we will do so.
Arm.
Hola, approach!—
[Music.
Enter Holo. Nath. Moth, Cost. and Others.
This side [forming them in two Bands.] is Hiems, winter;
this Ver, the spring; the one maintained by the
owl, the other by the cuckoo.—Ver, begin.
SONG.
1
Spr.
When daizies py'd, and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue,
Do paint the meadows with delight;
The cuckoo then on every tree
Mocks marry'd men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo,—O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a marry'd ear!
2.
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws* note,
And merry larks are plowmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks;
The cuckoo then, on every tree, &c.
-- 287 --
3
Win.
When isicles hang by the wall,
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,
And Tom bears logs into the hall,
And milk comes frozen home in pail;
When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who;
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note;
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
2.
When all aloud the wind doth blow,
And coughing drowns the parson's saw,
And birds sit brooding in the snow,
And Marian's nose looks red and raw;
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl, &c.
Arm.
The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs
of Apollo. You, that way; we, this way.
[Exeunt† note.
