KING.
Let Fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register'd upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring time,
Th' 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 academy,
Still, and contemplative in living arts.
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 the 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.

LONGAVILLE.
I am resolv'd; 'tis but a three years fast,
The mind shall banquet, tho' the body pine.

DUMAIN.
My loving lord, Dumain is mortified;
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.

BIRON.
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 for me,
Not to see ladies, study, fast, nor sleep.

KING.
Your oath is pass'd.

BIRON.
Let me say no, my liege;
I only swore to study with your grace,
And stay here, in your court, for three years term.

LONGAVILLE.
You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.

BIRON.
By yea and nay, Sir, then in jest I swore:
What is the end of study? Let me know?

KING.
Why, that to know, which else we should not know.

BIRON.
Things hid and barr'd (you mean) from common sense.

KING.
Ay, that is study.—Come, Biron, read the scroll.

BIRON.

“Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of my court.”

Hath this been proclaimed?

LONGAVILLE.

Four days ago.

BIRON.
Let's see the penalty.
“On pain of losing her tongue.” [reading.]
Who devised this penalty?

LONGAVILLE.

Marry, I, Sir,

BIRON.

And why, good Lord?

LONGAVILLE.
To fright them hence, with that dread penalty,

BIRON.
A dangerous law, in good faith.

Item, [reading] “If any man be seen to talk with a woman, within the term of three years, he shall endure such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise.”

And compleat majesty, with yourself to treat
About surrender up of Aquitain
To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father;
Or vainly comes the admired princess hither.

KING.
What say you, lords? why this was quite forgot.
We must of force, dispense with this decree.

LONGAVILLE.
Most true, my liege; the rest we will confirm;
Held sacred by the ties of holy friendship,
And by th' endearments of a mutual faith.

BIRON.
With what solemnity, to honest fools,
May wise men preach their virtues?

DUMAIN.
Biron, will have his joke.

BIRON.
So will Dumain; or else I am no prophet.

KING.
Biron, you're quick: but let us now devise
Some means to sweeten the severer part
Of studious meditation; some hours of mirth,
In which we may forget our solemn vow,
With innocence, and blest festivity.

BIRON.
No, no, my liege, we must be hermits here,
And as the sage within his moss-grown cave,
At enmity with all his brotherhood,
Lives out a tedious term of twice told years,
Bearing severest fate with rancour'd pride;
So we, my lords, devoted to our books,
From books alone must our amusements take:
Philosophy hath charms for all the world.

LONGAVILLE.
Who preaches now!

KING.
Sure, Biron, we may taste the rural sports,
The recreations of an idle hour,
Without infringing on the smallest part
Our oaths may bind us to.

DUMAIN.
Yes, my liege;
Incessant study blunts the edge of sense,
And, 'tis most fitting, while we do admire
This discipline, that we allot some hours
To mirth and merriment; and that we purge
The melancholy, study may contract,
By manly exercise.

BIRON.
By women; good my lord—I trust, we may;
By womens eyes, this doctrine I derive.
They are the ground, the book, the academies,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
Why, universal plodding, prisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries:
Therefore, if recreations we must take,
Then fools we are these women to forswear.

KING.
Well, set you out.—Go home, Biron—adieu!

BIRON.
No, my good lord, I've sworn—and I believe,
Although I have for barbarism spoke more
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
I shall not be the last to keep his oath;
So to the laws at large I write my name,
Thus, Sir, 'tis done. [signs.]

KING.
Here, Longaville. [signs.]
And here Dumain. [signs.]
Then this confirms it. [signs.]

Now, my good lords, we will give audience
To this fair princess.—And, as you know,
Our court is haunted with a refined traveller From Spain, Armado hight, a man, who
Hath a mint of phrases, vain of his own tongue,
A knight of complements; he, as our leisure suits,
Shall pleasantly relate, in high-born word,
The worth of many a knight from tawny Spain.
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 minstrelsie.

BIRON.
Armado, is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight. [Exeunt. SCENE II. Armado's House. ARMADO, MOTH.

ARMADO.

Boy, what sign is it, when a man of great spirit grows melancholy?

MOTH.

A great sign, Sir, that he will look sad.

ARMADO.

Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp.

MOTH.

Indeed!

ARMADO.

Moth!

MOTH.

Sir!

ARMADO.

Keep my spirits up, sweet youth! I tell thee, boy, take away this melancholy, it surfeits my other senses; I am as it were no better than a lifeless corpse already.

MOTH.

The world bears many such heavy loads, my signior; it is a melancholy world, good Sir: he who wou'd laugh and be merry in it, must so time his humour, as to be never out of humour.

ARMADO.

How so! child, how so!

MOTH.

As thus; he must affect no wisdom, by saying such a thing was well done; he must affect no judgment, by saying, it might have been done better; nor affect any concern, that it was ill-done: Oh! this world, this world is a fit habitation but for few; the good find it base, and the base make it so.

ARMADO.

Enough, sweet boy, of this moral refinement. Moth! have not I promised to study three years with the king?

MOTH.

You may do it in an hour, Sir.

ARMADO.

What?

MOTH.

Why, break your oath, signior.

ARMADO.

Well, 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 base wench. If drawing my sword against the humour of affection, would deliver me from the reprobate thought of it, I wou'd take

desire prisoner; and ransom him to any French courtier for a new devised curtsie. I think it scorn to sigh, methinks, I should outswear Cupid. Comfort me, boy! what great men have been in love?

MOTH.

Hercules, master.

ARMADO.

Most sweet Hercules! more authority, dear boy, name more! and, sweet my child, let them be of good repute and carriage.

MOTH.

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.

ARMADO.

O well-knit Sampson; strong-jointed Sampson! I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who was Sampson in love with, my dear Moth?

MOTH.

A woman, master.

ARMADO.

Of what complexion?

MOTH.

Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.

ARMADO.

Tell me, precisely, of what complexion?

MOTH.

Of the sea-water green, Sir.

ARMADO.

Is that one of the four complexions?

MOTH.

As I have read, Sir, and the best of them too.

ARMADO.

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.

MOTH.

It was so, Sir, for she had a green wit.

ARMADO.

Ha! ha! ha! 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!—But, prithee boy, hear me out, while my humour lasts; well! great men have been in love; I am in love, therefore, I am a great man. —Take courage upon that, Armado; but great men have ever loved noble women; my love is— is—

MOTH.

What! what, Sir!

ARMADO.

A country-wench, child!

MOTH.

How! my good master!

ARMADO.

Why, boy, with a prating, mincing, laughing, lying, kissing Abigail! nothing less than the rosy-finger'd Jaquenetta—

MOTH.

Jaquenetta!

ARMADO.

Go—seek her out.—My spirit grows heavy in love, bid her attend me in the grove, and I will accost her in the true jig of heroic fascination.

MOTH.

Signior, I obey.—A blinking Cupid cannot miss the mark.

ARMADO.

I do affect the very ground (which is base) where her shoe (which is baser) guided by her foot (which is basest) doth tread. I shall be forsworn, which is a great argument of falshood, if I love; and how can that be true love, which is falsely 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 Soloman so seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupid's but shaft is too hard for Hercules's club, and therefore too much odds for a Spanish 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 sonnet! Devise wit, write pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio!