Dumain.
King.
Let Fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live registred upon our brazen tombs;*
note
When spight of cormorant devouring time,
Th' endeavour of his present breath may buy
That honour which shall bate his sythe'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 this schedule here.
-- 94 --
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 them too.
Long.
I am resolv'd; 'tis but a three year's fast:
The mind shall banquet, tho' the body pine;
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bankrout 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.
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 to keep;
Not to see ladies, study, fast, nor sleep.
King.
Your oath is past to pass away from these.
Biron.
Let me say no, my liege, and if you please;
-- 95 --
I only swore to study with your Grace,
And stay here in your court for three years space.
Long.
You swore to that, Biron, and to the rest.
Biron.
By yea and nay Sir, then I swore in jest.
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's god-like recompence.
Biron.
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 fast 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 this, and this be so,
Study knows that which yet it doth not know:
Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no.
King.
These be the stops that hinder study quite,
And train our intellects to vain delight.
Biron.
Why all delights are vain, but that most vain
Which with pain purchas'd, doth inherit pain;
As painfully to pore upon a book.
To seek the light of truth, while truth the while
Doth falsly blind the eye-sight of his look:
Light seeking light, doth light of light beguile;
So ere you find where light in darkness lies,
Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes.
Study me how to please the eye indeed,
By fixing it upon a fairer eye;
Who dazling so, that eye shall be his heed,
And give him light that it was blinded by.
-- 96 --
Study is like the Heaven's glorious Sun,
That will not be deep search'd with sawcy looks;
Small have continual plodders ever won,
Save base authority from others books.
These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights,
That give a name to every fixed star,
Have no more profit of their shining nights,
Than those that walk, and wot not what they are.
Too much to know, is to know nought but fame;
And every godfather can give a name.
King.
How well he's read, to reason against reading.
Dum.
Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding.
Long.
He weeds the corn, and still lets grow the weeding.
Biron.
The spring is near, when green geese are a breeding.
Dum.
How follows that?
Biron.
Fit in his place and time.
Dum.
In reason nothing.
Biron.
Something then in rhime.
Long.
Biron is like an envious † notesneaping frost,
That bites the first-born infants of the spring.
Biron.
Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast,
Before the birds have any cause to sing?
Why should I joy in an abortive birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a rose,
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled shows:
But like of each thing that in season grows.
So you, to study now it is too late,
Climb o'er the house t'unlock the little gate.
King.
Well sit you out. Go home, Biron: Adieu.
Biron.
No, my good lord, I've sworn to stay with you.
And though I have for barbarism spoke more,
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
-- 97 --
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.
King.
How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!
Biron.
Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of
my court.
[reading.
Hath this been proclaimed?
Long.
Four days ago.
Biron.
Let's see the penalty.
On pain of losing her tongue!
[reading.
Who devis'd this penalty?
Long.
Marry that did I.
Biron.
Sweet lord, and why?
Long.
To fright them hence with that dread penalty;
A dangerous law against gentility.
Item, [reading.] 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.
Biron.
This article, my liege, your self must break;
For well you know here comes in embassy
The French king's daughter, with your self to speak,
A maid of grace and compleat majesty,
About surrender up of Aquitain
To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father:
Therefore this article is made in vain,
Or vainly comes th' admired princess hither.
King.
What say you, lords? why this was quite forgot.
Biron.
So study evermore is overshot,
While it doth study to have what it would,
It doth forget to do the thing it should:
And when it hath the thing it hunteth most,
'Tis won as towns with fire; so won, so lost.
-- 98 --
King.
We must of force dispence with this decree,
She must lye here on mere necessity.
Biron.
Necessity will make us all forsworn
Three thousand times within this three year's 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 meer necessity.
So to the laws at large I write my name,
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?
King.
Ay that there is; our court you know is haunted
With a refined traveller of Spain,
A man in all the world's new fashions planted,
That hath a mint of phrases in his brain:
One whom the musick of his own vain tongue,
Doth ravish like inchanting harmony:
A man of complements, 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 minstrelsie.
Biron.
Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire-new words, fashion's own Knight.
-- 99 --
Long.
Costard the swain, and he, shall be our sport;
And so to study, three years are but short.
SCENE II.
Enter Dull and Costard with a letter.
Dull.
Which is the Duke's own person?
Biron.
This fellow; what wouldst?
Dull.
I my self reprehend his own person, for I am his
Grace's Tharborough: but I would see his own person in flesh
and blood.
Biron.
This is he.
Dull.
Signior Arme, Arme commends you. There's villany
abroad; this letter will tell you more.
Cost.
Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me.
King.
A letter from the magnificent Armado.
Biron.
How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high
words.
Long.
A high hope for a low heav'n; God grant us patience.
Biron.
To hear, or forbear hearing?
Long.
To hear meekly, Sir, to laugh moderately, or to
forbear both.
Biron.
Well Sir, be it as the stile shall give us cause to climb
in the merriness.
Cost.
The matter is to me, Sir, as concerning Jaquenetta.
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.
Biron.
In what manner?
Cost.
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.
-- 100 --
Biron.
For the following, Sir?
Cost.
As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend
the right.
King.
Will you hear the letter with attention?
Biron.
As we could hear an oracle.
Cost.
Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh.
King. reads.
Great deputy, the welkin's vice-gerent, and sole dominator
of Navarre, my soul's earth's God, and body's
fostring patron—
Cost.
Not a word of Costard yet.
King.
So it is—
Cost.
It may be so; but if he say it is so, he is, in telling
true; but so.
King.
Peace—
Cost.
Be to me, and every man that dares not fight.
King.
No words.
Cost.
Of other men's secrets I beseech you.
King.
So it is. Besieged with sable-coloured melancholy, I
did commend the black oppressing humour to the most wholesome
physick of thy health-giving air; and as I am a gentleman, betook
my self 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 call'd 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 standeth
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
minow of thy mirth,
(Cost.
Me?)
that unletter'd small-knowing soul,
(Cost.
Me?)
that shallow vassal,
(Cost.
Still me?)
which as I remember,
-- 101 --
hight Costard,
(Cost.
O me!)
sorted and consorted contrary
to thy established proclaimed edict and continent canon: which
with—O with—but with this I passion to say wherewith:
Cost.
With a wench.
King.
With a child of our grandmother Eve, a female; or for
thy more understanding, a woman; him, I (as my ever esteem'd
duty pricks me on) have sent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment
by thy sweet grace's officer, Anthony Dull, a man of good
repute, carriage, bearing and estimation.
Dull.
Me, an't shall please you? I am Anthony Dull.
King.
For Jaquenetta (so is the weaker vessel call'd) 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
tryal. Thine in all complements of devoted and heart-burning heat
of duty,
Don Adriano de Armanda.
Biron.
This is not so well as I look'd for, but the best that ever
I heard.
King.
Ay the best for the worst. But sirrah, what say you
to this?
Cost.
Sir, I confess the wench.
King.
Did you hear the proclamation?
Cost.
I do confess much of the hearing it, but little of the
marking of it.
King.
It was proclaim'd a year's imprisonment to be taken
with a wench.
Cost.
I was taken with none, Sir, I was taken with a damosel.
King.
Well, it was proclaimed damosel.
Cost.
This was no damosel neither, Sir, she was a virgin.
King.
It is so varied too, for it was proclaim'd virgin.
Cost.
If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a
maid.
-- 102 --
King.
This maid will not serve your turn, Sir.
Cost.
This maid will serve my turn, Sir.
King.
Sir, I will pronounce sentence; you shall fast a week
with bran and water.
Cost.
I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.
King.
And Don Armado shall be your keeper. 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.
Biron.
I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.
Sirrah, come on.
Cost.
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 four cup of prosperity: affliction may one day smile
again, and until then, sit thee down, sorrow.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
Armado's House.
Enter Armado and Moth.
Arm.
Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit grows
melancholy.
Moth.
A great sign, Sir, that he will look sad.
Arm.
Why sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp.
Moth.
No, no, O lord Sir, no.
Arm.
How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my tender
Juvenile?
Moth.
By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough
Signior.
Arm.
Why tough Signior? why tough Signior?
Moth.
Why tender Juvenile? why tender Juvenile?
-- 103 --
Arm.
I spoke it tender Juvenile, as a congruent epitheton,
appertaining to thy young days, which we may nominate tender.
Moth.
And I tough Signior, as an appertinent title to your
old time, which we may name tough.
Arm.
Pretty and apt.
Moth.
How mean you, Sir, I pretty, and my saying apt? or
I apt, and my saying pretty?
Arm.
Thou pretty, because little.
Moth.
Little pretty, because little; wherefore apt?
Arm.
And therefore apt, because quick.
Moth.
Speak you this in my praise, master?
Arm.
In thy condign praise.
Moth.
I will praise an eel with the same praise.
Arm.
What? that an eel is ingenious.
Moth.
That an eel is quick.
Arm.
I do say thou art quick in answers. Thou heat'st my
blood.
Moth.
I am answer'd, Sir.
Arm.
I love not to be crost.
Moth.
He speaks the clean contrary, crosses love not him.
Arm.
I have promis'd to study three years with the Duke.
Moth.
You may do it in an hour, Sir.
Arm.
Impossible.
Moth.
How many is one thrice told?
Arm.
I am ill at reckoning, it fits the spirit of a tapster.
Moth.
You are a gentleman and a gamester.
Arm.
I confess both, they are both the varnish of a compleat
man.
Moth.
Then I am sure you know how much the gross sum
of deuce-ace amounts to.
Arm.
It doth amount to one more than two.
Moth.
Which the base vulgar call three.
Arm.
True.
-- 104 --
Moth.
Why Sir, is this such a piece of study? now here's
three studied ere you'll thrice wink; and how easie it is to put
years to the word three, and study three years in two words, the
dancing-horse will tell you.
Arm.
A most fine figure.
Moth.
To prove you a cypher.
Arm.
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 would take desire
prisoner, and ransom him to any French courtier for a new
devis'd curt'sie. I think it scorn to sigh, methinks I should
out-swear Cupid. Comfort me, boy: what great men have been
in love?
Moth.
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.
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.
Arm.
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's love, my dear Moth!
Moth.
A woman, master.
Arm.
Of what complection?
Moth.
Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of
the four.
Arm.
Tell me precisely of what complection?
Moth.
Of the sea-water green, Sir.
Arm.
Is that one of the four complections?
Moth.
As I have read, Sir, and the best of them too.
Arm.
Green indeed is the colour of lovers; but to have a
-- 105 --
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.
Arm.
My love is most immaculate white and red.
Moth.
Most maculate thoughts, master, are mask'd under
such colours.
Arm.
Define, define, well-educated infant.
Moth.
My father's wit and my mother's tongue assist me!
Arm.
Sweet invocation of a child, most pretty and pathetical!
Moth.
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 rhime, master, against the reason of white and
red.
Arm.
Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the beggar?
Moth.
The world was 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 disgression by some mighty president. Boy, I do love
that country girl that I took in the park with the rational hind
Costard; she deserves well—
Moth.
To be whipp'd; and yet a better love than my master.
Arm.
Sing boy, my spirit grows heavy in love.
Moth.
And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.
-- 106 --
Arm.
I say sing.
Moth.
Forbear, 'till this company be past.
SCENE IV.
Enter Costard, Dull, Jaquenetta and Maid.
Dull.
Sir, the Duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard safe,
and you must let him take no delight, nor no penance; but he
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.
[Exit.
Arm.
I do betray my self with blushing: maid.
Jaq.
Man.
Arm.
I will visit thee at the lodge.
Jaq.
That's here by.
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.
Maid.
Fair weather after you. Come Jaquenetta, away.
[Exeunt.
Arm.
Villain thou shalt fast for thy offence ere thou be pardoned.
Cost.
Well Sir, I hope when I do it, I shall do it on a full
stomach.
Arm.
Thou shalt be heavily punish'd.
Cost.
I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they
are but lightly rewarded.
Arm.
Take away this villain, shut him up.
Moth.
Come you transgressing slave, away.
-- 107 --
Cost.
Let me not be pent up, Sir, I will be fast being loose.
Moth.
No, Sir, that were fast and loose; thou shalt to prison.
Cost.
Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation that
I have seen, some shall see—
Moth.
What shall some see?
Cost.
Nay nothing, master Moth, but what they look upon.
It is not for prisoners to be silent in their words, and therefore
I will say nothing; I thank God, I have as little patience as another
man, and therefore I can be quiet.
[Ex. Moth with Costard.
Arm.
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
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
call'd 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 rhime, for I am
sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise wit, write pen, for I am for
whole volumes in folio.
[Ex.
-- 108 --
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Before the King of Navarre's palace.
Enter the Princess of France, Rosaline, Maria, Catherine, Boyet, Lords and other attendants.
Boyet.
Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits.
Consider whom the King your father sends;
To whom he sends, and what's his embassy.
Your self, held precious in the world's esteem,
To parley with the sole inheritor
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.
Prin.
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,
-- 109 --
No woman may approach his silent court;
Therefore to us seems 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 sollicitor.
Tell him the daughter of the King of France,
On serious business, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes personal conference with his Grace.
Haste, signifie so much, while we attend,
Like humble-visag'd sutors, his high will.
Boyet.
Proud of imployment, willingly I go.
[Exit.
Prin.
All pride is willing pride, and yours is so;
Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous Duke?
Lord.
Longaville is one.
Prin.
Know you the man?
Mar.
I knew him, madam, at a marriage feast,
Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Faulconbridge solemnized.
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,)
Is a sharp wit match'd with too blunt a will;
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills
It should spare none that come within his power.
Prin.
Some merry-mocking lord belike, is't so?
Mar.
They say so most, that most his humours know.
Prin.
Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?
-- 110 --
Cath.
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, tho' he had no wit.
I saw him at the Duke Alanzon's once,
And much too little of that good I saw,
Is my report to his great worthiness.
Rosa.
Another of these students at that time
Was there with him, as 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;
So sweet and voluble is his discourse.
Prin.
God bless my ladies, are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?
Mar.
Here comes Boyet.
Enter Boyet.
Prin.
Now, what admittance, Lord?
Boyet.
Navarre had notice of your fair approach;
And he and his competitors in oath
Were all addrest to meet you, gentle lady,
Before I came: marry, thus much I've learnt,
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
-- 111 --
Like one that comes here to besiege his court,
Than seek a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his unpeopled house.
Here comes Navarre.
SCENE II.
Enter the King, Longaville, Dumain, Biron, and Attendants.
King.
Fair Princeess, welcome to the court of Navarre.
Prin.
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.
King.
You shall be welcome, Madam, to my court.
Prin.
I will be welcome then; conduct me thither.
King.
Hear me, dear Lady, I have sworn an oath.
Prin.
Our Lady help my lord, he'll be forsworn.
King.
Not for the world, fair Madam, by my will.
Prin.
Why, will shall break its will, and nothing else.
King.
Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.
Prin.
Were my Lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear your Grace hath sworn out house-keeping:
'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my Lord;
And sin to break it.
But pardon me, I am too sudden bold:
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.
King.
Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.
Prin.
You will the sooner that I were away,
For you'll prove perjur'd if you make me stay.
Biron.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Ros.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
-- 112 --
Biron.
I know you did.
Ros.
How needless was it then to ask the question?
Biron.
You must not be so quick.
Ros.
'Tis long of you that spur me with such questions.
Biron.
Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire.
Ros.
Not 'till it leave the rider in the mire.
Biron.
What time a day?
Rosa.
The hour that fools should ask.
Biron.
Now fair befall your mask.
Rosa.
Fair fall the face it covers.
Biron.
And send you many lovers.
Rosa.
Amen, so you be none.
Biron.
Nay then will I be gone.
King.
Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but th' one half of an intire sum,
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say that he, or we, as neither have,
Receiv'd that sum; yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in surety of the 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,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty:
But that it seems he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
An hundred thousand crowns, and not a notedemands
One payment of an hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;
Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the mony by our father lent,
-- 113 --
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 satisfied to France again.
Prin.
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 paid.
King.
I do protest I never heard of it;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or yield up Aquitain.
Prin.
We arrest your word:
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum, from special officers
Of Charles his father.
King.
Satisfie me so.
Boyet.
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.
King.
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 your self lodg'd in my heart,
Tho' so deny'd b notefair harbour in my house:
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewel;
To-morrow we shall visit you again.
Prin.
Sweet health and fair desires comfort your Grace.
King.
Thy own wish, wish I thee, in every place.
[Exit.
-- 114 --
Biron.
Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.
Rosa.
I pray you do my commendations;
I would be glad to see it.
Biron.
I would you heard it groan.*
note
[Exit.
Dum.
Sir, I pray you a word: what lady is that same?
Boyet.
The heir of Alanson, Rosaline her name.
Dum.
A gallant lady; Monsieur fare you well.
[Exit.
Long.
I beseech you a word: what is she in white?*
note
Boyet.
She is an heir of Faulconbridge.*
note
Long.
She is a most sweet lady.
Boyet.
Not unlike Sir, that may be.* note
[Exit Long.
-- 115 --
If my observation (which very seldom lyes,
By the heart's still rhetorick, disclosed with eyes)
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.*
note
Rosa.
Thou art an old love-monger, and speakest skilfully.
-- 116 --
Mar.
He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him.
Rosa.
Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.
Boyet.
Do you hear, my mad wenches?
Mar.
No.
Boyet.
What then, do you see?
Rosa.
Ay, our way to be gone.
Boyet.
You are too hard for me.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
†††The PARK.
Enter Armado and Moth.
SONG.
Armado.
Warble child, make passionate my sense of hearing.
Moth.
Concolinel.—
Arm.
Sweet air; go tenderness of years; take
this key, give inlargement to the swain; bring
him festinately hither: I must imploy him in a
letter to my love.
Moth.
Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?
Arm.
How mean'st thou, brawling in French?
Moth.
No my compleat master, but to jig off a tune at the
tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning
up your eyelids; sigh a note and sing a note, sometimes
through the throat: if you swallow'd love with singing, love
sometime through the nose, as if you snuft up love by smelling
-- 117 --
love, with your hat penthouse-like o'er the shop of your eyes,
with your arms crost on your thinbelly 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 complements, these are humours, these betray
nice wenches that would be betray'd without these, and
make them men of note: do you note men that most are affected
to these?
Arm.
How hast thou purchas'd this experience?
Moth.
By my pen of observation.
Arm.
But O, but O—
Moth.
The hobby-horse is forgot.
Arm.
Call'st thou my love hobby-horse?
Moth.
No master, the hobby-hose is but a colt, and your
love perhaps a hackney: but have you forgot your love?
Arm.
Almost I had.
Moth.
Negligent student, learn her by heart.
Arm.
By heart, and in heart boy.
Moth.
And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove.
Arm.
What wilt thou prove?
Moth.
A man, if I live. (And this) by, in, and out of: 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.
Arm.
I am all these three.
Moth.
And three times as much more; and yet nothing at all.
Arm.
Fetch hither the swain, he must carry me a letter.
Moth.
A message well sympathiz'd; a horse to be embassador
for an ass.
Arm.
Ha, ha; what say'st thou?
Moth.
Marry Sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for
he is very slow gated: but I go.
-- 118 --
Arm.
The way is but short; away.
Moth.
As swift as lead, Sir.
Arm.
Thy meaning, pretty ingenious?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull and slow?
Moth.
Minimè honest master, or rather master no.
Arm.
I say lead is slow.
Moth.
You are too swift Sir, to say so.
Is that lead slow, Sir, which is fir'd from a gun?
Arm.
Sweet smoak of rhetorick?
He reputes me a cannon, and the bullet that's he:
I shoot thee at the swain.
Moth.
Thump then, and I fly.
[Exit.
Arm.
A most acute Juvenile, 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.
SCENE II.
Enter Moth and Costard.* note
-- 119 --
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 honours is rewarding my dependants.
Moth, follow.—
[Exit.
Moth.
Like the sequel I. Signior Costard adieu.
[Exit.
Cost.
My sweet ounce of man's flesh, my in-cony Jew: 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 its remuneration: why? it is a fairer
name than a French-crown. I will never buy and sell out of
this word.
-- 120 --
SCENE III.
Enter Biron.
Biron.
O my good knave Costard, exceedingly well met.
Cost.
Pray you Sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man
buy for a remuneration?
Biron.
What is a remuneration?
Cost.
Marry Sir, half-penny farthing.
Biron.
O, why then three farthings worth of silk.
Cost.
I thank your worship, God be with you.
Biron.
O stay slave, I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, my good knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall intreat.
Cost.
When would you have it done, Sir?
Biron.
O this afternoon.
Cost.
Well, I will do it Sir: fare you well.
Biron.
O thou knowest not what it is.
Cost.
I shall know, Sir, when I have done it.
Biron.
Why villain, thou must know first.
Cost.
I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.
Biron.
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.
Cost.
Guerdon, O sweet guerdon, better than remuneration,
eleven pence farthing better: most sweet guerdon. I will do it,
Sir, in print. Guerdon, remuneration.
[Exit.
Biron.
O! and I forsooth in love,
-- 121 --
I that have been love's whip;
A very beadle to a humorous sigh:
A critick; nay, a night-watch constable,
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal more magnificent.
This whimpled, whining, purblind wayward boy,
This Signior Junio, giant dwarf, Dan Cupid,
Regent of love-rimes, lord of folded arms,
Th'anointed Soveraign of sighs and groans:
Leige of all loyterers and malecontents:
Dread Prince of plackets, King of codpieces.
Sole imperator, and great general
Of trotting parators (O my little heart!)
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
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 aright, being a watch,
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,
Ay, and by heav'n, one that will do the deed,
Tho' Argus were her eunuch and her guard;
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! go too: it is a plague
That 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.
-- 122 --
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
A Pavilion in the Park near the Palace.
Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Catherine, Lords, Attendants, and a Forester.
Princess.
Was that the King that spur'd his horse so hard
Against the steep uprising of the hill?
Boyet.
I know not, but I think it was not he.
Prin.
Who e'er he was, he shew'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.
Hereby upon the edge of yonder coppice,
A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.*
note
-- 123 --
Enter Costard.
Boyet.
Here comes a member of the common-wealth.* note
Cost.
I have a letter from Monsieur Biron, to one lady Rosaline.
Prin.
O thy letter, thy letter: he's a good friend of mine.
Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve,
Break up this capon.
Boyet.
I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.
Prin.
We will read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.
Boyet reads.
By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true that
thou art beauteous; truth it self that thou art lovely; more
-- 124 --
fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous, truer than truth it
self; 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!) videlicet, 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.
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 inrich'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 thy self? 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 Adriana 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.
Prin.
What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?
What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?
Boyet.
I am much deceived, but I remember the stile.
Prin.
Else your memory is bad, going o'er it ere while.
-- 125 --
Boyet.
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.
Prin.
Thou fellow, a word.
Who gave thee this letter?
Cost.
I told you, my lord.
Prin.
To whom should'st thou give it?
Cost.
From my lord to my lady.
Prin.
From which lord to which lady?
Cost.
From my lord Berown, a good master of mine,
To a lady of France that he call'd Rosaline.
Prin.
Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come lords away.
Here sweet, put up this, 'twill be thine another day.* note
[Exe.
-- 126 --
SCENE II.
[Shoot within.]
Enter Dull, Holofernes, and Nathaniel.
Nath.
Very reverent sport truly, and done in the testimony
of a good conscience.
Hol.
The deer was (as you know) sanguis in blood, ripe as
a pomwater, who now hangeth like a jewel in the ear of Cœlo
the sky, the welkin, the heav'n, and anon falleth like a crab
on the face of Terra, the soil, the land, the earth.
Nath.
Truly master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied
like a scholar at the least: but, Sir, I assure ye, it was a
buck of the first head.
Hol.
Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
Dull.
'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket.
Hol.
Most barbarous intimation; yet a kind of insinuation,
as it were in via, in way of explication facere, as it were replication,
or rather ostentare, to show as it were his inclination
after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained,
or rather unlettered, or ratherest unconfirmed fashion, to
insert again my haud credo for a deer.
Dull.
I said the deer was not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket.
Hol.
Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus; O thou monster ignorance,
how deformed dost thou look?
-- 127 --
Nath.
Sir, he hath never fed on 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; and such barren plants
are set before us, that we thankful should be; which we taste,
and feeling, are for those parts that do fructifie in us more
than he.
For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool;
So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school.
But omne bene say I, being of an old father's mind,
Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind.
Dull.
You two are book-men; can you tell by your wit,
What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?
Hol.
Dictinna good-man Dull, Dictinna good-man Dull.
Dull.
What is Dictinna?
Nath.
A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moon.
Hol.
The moon was a month old when Adam was no more.
And rought not to five weeks when he came to fivescore.
Th'allusion holds in the exchange.
Dull.
'Tis true indeed, the collusion holds in the exchange.
Hol.
God comfort thy capacity, I say the allusion holds in
the exchange.
Dull.
And I say the 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.
Hol.
Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph on
the death of the deer, and to humour the ignorant, I have
call'd the deer the Princess kill'd, a pricket.
Nath.
Perge good master Holofernes, perge, so it shall please
you to abrogate scurrility.
Hol.
I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.
-- 128 --
The praiseful Princess pierc'd and prickt
A pretty pleasing pricket.
Some say a sore, but not a sore,
'Till now made sore with shooting.
The dogs did yell, put L to sore,
Then sorel jumpt from thicket;
Or pricket-sore, or else sorel,
The people fall a hooting.
If sore be sore, then L to sore,
Makes fifty sores, O sorel!
Of one sore I an hundred make,
By adding but one more L.
Nath.
A rare talent!
Dull.
If a talent be a claw, look how he claws him with a
talent.
Hol.
This is a gift that I have, simple, simple; a foolish
extravagant spirit, full of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas,
apprehensions, motions, revolutions. These are begot in the
ventricle of memory, nourish'd in the womb of pia mater, and
deliver'd upon the mellowing of occasion; but the gift is good
in those in whom it is acute, and I am thankful for it.
Nath.
Sir, I praise the lord for you, and so may my parishioners,
for their sons are well tutor'd by you, and their daughters
profit very greatly under you; you are a good member of
the common-wealth.
Hol.
Mehercle, if their sons be ingenuous, they shall 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.
-- 129 --
SCENE III.
Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.
Jaq.
God give you good morrow, master parson.* note
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.
Nath.
Fauste precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbrâ ruminat,
and so forth. Ah good old Mantuan, I may speak of
thee as the traveller doth of Venice; Venechi, venache a, qui
non te vide, i non te piaech. Old Mantuan, old Mantuan.
Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not. ut re sol la mi fa.
Hol.
Under pardon Sir, what are the contents? or rather,
as Horace says in his: What! my soul! verses!
Nath.
Ay Sir, and very learned.
Hol.
Let me hear a staff, a stanza, a verse; Lege Domine.
Nath.
If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?
Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd;
Though to my self forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove,
Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bow'd.
Study his biass leaves, and makes his book thine eyes;
Where all those pleasures live, that art would comprehend:
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice,
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend.
-- 130 --
All ignorant that Soul, that sees thee without wonder:
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire;
Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice is dreadful thunder;
Which not to anger bent, is musick, and sweet fire.
Celestial as thou art, Oh pardon, love, this wrong,
That sings heav'ns praise with such an earthly tongue.
Hol.
You find not the Apostrophes, and so miss the accent.
Let me supervise the cangenet.
Nath.
Here are only numbers ratify'd, but for the elegancy,
facility, and golden cadence of poesie caret: Ovidius Naso was
the man. And why indeed Naso, but for smelling out the
odoriferous flowers of fancy? the jerks of invention imitary is
nothing: so doth the hound his master, the ape his keeper,
the tir'd horse his rider: But Damosella Virgin, was this directed
to you?
Jaq.
Ay Sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the strange
Queen's lords.
Nath.
I will overglance the superscript. To the snow-white
hand of the most beauteous lady Rosaline. I will look again on
the intellect of the letter, for the nomination of the party
writing, to the person written unto.
Your Ladyship's in all desir'd employment, Biron.
Dull.
Sir Holofernes, this Biron is one of the votaries with
the King, and here he hath fram'd a letter to a sequent of
the stranger Queen's, which accidentally or by the way of
progression hath miscarry'd. Trip and go my sweet; deliver
this paper into the hand of the King; it may concern much;
stay not thy complement; I forgive thy duty: adieu.
Jaq.
Good Costard go with me. Sir, God save your life.
Cost.
Have with thee, my girl.
[Exe. Cost. and Jaq.
-- 131 --
Nath.
Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very religiously:
and as a certain father saith—
Hol.
Sir, tell not me of the father, I do fear colourable
colours. But to return to the verses: did they please you, Sir
Nathaniel?
Nath.
Marvellous well for the pen.
Hol.
I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil of
mine; where if (being repast) it shall please you to gratifie the
table with a grace: I will on my privilege I have with the parents
of the aforesaid child or pupil, undertake your ben venuto,
where will I prove those verses to be very unlearned, neither
savouring of poetry, wit or invention. I beseech your society.
Nath.
And thank you too: for society (saith the text) is the
happiness of life.
Hol.
And certes the text most infallibly concludes it. Sir,
I do invite you too; you shall not say me nay: Pauca verba.
Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our recreation.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV.
Enter Biron with a paper in his hand, alone.
Biron.
The King is hunting the deer, I am coursing my
self. They have pitcht a toil, 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 on my side.
I will not love; if I do, hang me; i'faith I will not. O but
her eye: by this light, but for her eye, I would not love; 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
-- 132 --
rhime, and here my melancholy. Well she hath one o' my
sonnets already; the clown bore it, the fool sent it, and 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, God give him grace to groan.
[he stands aside.
Enter the King.
King.
Ay me!
Biron.
Shot, by heav'n! proceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast
thumpt him with thy bird-bolt under the left pap: in faith
secrets.
King.
So sweet a kiss the golden sun gives not
To those fresh morning drops upon the rose,
As thy eye-beams, when their fresh rays have smote
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 triumphing in my woe.
Do but behold the tears that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my grief will shew;
But do not love thy self, then thou wilt keep
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.
O Queen of Queens, how far dost thou excel!
No 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?
[the King steps aside.
Enter Longaville.
What! Longaville! and reading! listen ear.
Biron.
Now in thy likeness one more fool appears.
-- 133 --
Long.
Ay me, I am forsworn.
Biron.
Why he comes in like a perjur'd, wearing papers.
King.
In love I hope, sweet fellowship in shame.
Biron.
One drunkard loves another of the name.
Long.
Am I the first that have been perjur'd so.
Biron.
I could put thee in comfort: not by two that I know;
Thou mak'st the triumviry, the three corner-cap of society,
The shape of love's Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity.
Long.
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.
Biron.
O rhimes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose:
Disfigure not his shop.
Long.
This same shall go.
[he reads the sonnet.
Did not the heavenly rhetorick of thine eye,
('Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument)
Perswade 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 earthy, thou a heav'nly 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?
Biron.
This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity:
A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend, we are much out o'th' way.
-- 134 --
Enter Dumain.
Long.
By whom shall I send this! (company?) stay.
Biron.
All hid, all hid, an old infant play;
Like a demy God, here sit I in the sky:
And wretched fools secrets headfully 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!
Biron.
O most prophane coxcomb!
[aside.
Dum.
By heav'n the wonder of a mortal eye!
Biron.
By earth she is not; corporal, there you lie.
[aside.
Dum.
Her amber hairs for foul have amber coted.
Biron.
An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.
[aside.
Dum.
As upright as the cedar.
Biron.
Stoop I say, her shoulder is with child.
[aside.
Dum.
As fair as day.
Biron.
Ay as some days; but then no sun must shine.
[aside.
Dum.
O that I had my wish!
Long.
And I had mine.
[aside.
King.
And mine too, good Lord.
[aside.
Biron.
Amen, so I had mine. Is not that a good word?
[aside.
Dum.
I would forget her, but a fever she
Reigns in my blood, and will remembred be.
Biron.
A fever in your blood! why then incision
Would let her out in sawcers, sweet misprision.
[aside.
Dum.
Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.
Biron.
Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.
[aside.
Dumain reads his sonnet.
On a day, alack the day!
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spy'd a blossom passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
-- 135 --
Through the velvet leaves, the wind,
All unseen, can passage find,
That the lover sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heav'n's breath.
Air (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow,
Air, would I might triumph so.
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 ev'n Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope were,
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.
This will I send, and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love's fasting pain:
O would the King, Biron and Longaville,
Were lovers too: ill to example ill
Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note:
For none offend, where all alike do dote.
Long.
Dumain, thy love is far from charity,
That in love's grief desir'st society:
[coming forward.
You may look pale, but I should blush I know,
To be o'er-heard, and taken napping so.
King.
Come, Sir, you blush; as his, your case is such,
[coming forward.
You chide at him, offending twice as much.
You do not love Maria? Longaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile.
-- 136 --
Nor never lay'd his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart?
I have been closely shrowded in this bush
And markt 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, chrystal 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?
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.
Biron.
Now step I forth to whip hypocrisie.
Ah good my Liege, I pray thee pardon me.
[Coming forward.
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 sonnetting.
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 fool'ry 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?
-- 137 --
To see great Hercules whipping a gigg,
And profound Solomon tuning a jygg?
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And Critick Timon laugh at idle toys.
Where lyes thy grief? O tell me good Dumain;
And gentle Longaville, where lyes thy pain?
And where my Liege's? all about the breast.
A caudle hoa!
King.
Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?
Biron.
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 men, like men of strange inconstancy.
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 gate, a state, a brow, a breast, a waste,
A leg, a limb?
King.
Soft, whither away so fast?
A true man or a thief, that gallops so.
Biron.
I post from love, good lover let me go.
Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.
Jaq.
God bless the King.
King.
What present hast thou there?
Cost.
Some certain treason.
King.
What makes treason here?
Cost.
Nay it makes nothing, Sir.
King.
If it mar nothing neither,
The treason and you go in peace away together.
-- 138 --
Jaq.
I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read,
Our parson misdoubts it: it was treason, he said.
King.
Biron, read it over.
[He reads the letter.
Where hadst thou it?
Jaq.
Of Costard.
King.
Where hadst thou it?
Cost.
Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
King.
How now, what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
Biron.
A toy, my Liege, a toy: your Grace needs not fear it.
Long.
It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.
Dum.
It is Biron's writing, and here is his name.
Biron.
Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shame.
Guilty my lord, guilty: I confess, I confess.
King.
What?
Biron.
That you three fools lackt me fool to make up the mess.
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.
Dum.
Now the number is even.
Biron.
True, true, we are four:
Will these turtles be gone?
King.
Hence Sirs, away.
Cost.
Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.
Biron.
Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us imbrace:
As true we are as flesh and blood can be.
The sea will ebb and flow, heav'n will 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.
King.
What, did these rent lines shew some love of thine?
Biron.
Did they, quoth you? who sees the heavenly Rosaline,
-- 139 --
That (like a rude and savage man of Inde)
At the first opening of the gorgeous east,
Bows not his vassal head, and strucken 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?
King.
What zeal, what fury hath inspir'd thee now?
My love (her mistress) is a gracious moon,
She (an attending star) scarce seen a light.
Biron.
My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Biron.
O but for my love, day would turn to night.
Of all complexions the cull'd Soveraignty,
Do meet as at a fair in her fair cheek;
Where several worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants that want it self doth seek.
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, then praise too short doth blot.
A wither'd hermite, 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,
O 'tis the sun that maketh all things shine.
King.
By heaven thy love is black as ebony.
Biron.
Is ebony like her? O word divine!
A wife of such wood were felicity.
O who can give an oath? where is a book?
That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack,
If that she learn not of her eye to look:
No face is fair that is not full so black.
-- 140 --
King.
O paradox, black is the badge of hell;
The hue of dungeons, and the school of night;
And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.
Biron.
Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light:
O, if in black my lady's brow be deckt:
It mourns, that painting and usurping hair
Should ravish doters with a false aspect:
And therefore is she born to make black fair.
Her favour turns the fashion of the days,
For native blood is counted painting now;
And therefore red that would avoid dispraise,
Paints it self black to imitate her brow.
Dum.
To look like her are chimney-sweepers black.
Long.
And since her time, are colliers counted bright.
King.
And Ethiops of their sweet complexion crack.
Dum.
Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.
Biron.
Your mistresses dare never come in rain,
For fear their colours should be washt away.
King.
'Twere good yours did: for, Sir, to tell you plain,
I'll find a fairer face not washt to-day.
Biron.
I'll prove her fair, or talk 'till dooms-day here.
King.
No devil will fright thee then so much as she.
Dum.
I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.
Long.
Look, here's thy love, my foot and her face see.
Biron.
O if the streets were paved with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread.
Dum.
O vile! then as she goes, what upward lyes
The street should see as she walk'd over head.
King.
But what of this, are we not all in love?
Biron.
Nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworn.
King.
Then leave this chat, and good Biron now prove
Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.
-- 141 --
Dum.
Ay marry there, some flattery for this evil.
Long.
O some authority how to proceed,
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.
Dum.
Some salve for perjury.
Biron.
O 'tis more than need.
Have at you then affections. Men at arms,
Consider what you first did swear unto:
To fast, to study, and to see no woman;
Flat treason 'gainst the kingly state of youth.
Say, can you fast? your stomachs are too young:
And abstinence ingenders maladies.
And where that you have vow'd to study (Lords)
In that each of you hath forsworn his book.
Can you still dream and pore, and thereon look?
For when would you, my Lord, or you, or you,
Have found the ground of study's excellence,
Without the beauty of a woman's face?
From 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 poisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries;
As motion and long during action tires
The sinewy vigour of the traveller.
Now for not looking on a woman's face,
You have in that forsworn the use of eyes:
And study too, the causer of your vow.
For where is any author in the world,
Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
Learning is but an adjunct to our self,
And where we are, our learning likewise is.
Then when our selves we see in ladies eyes,
Do we not likewise see our learning there?
-- 142 --
Of, we have made a vow to study, lords,
And in that vow we have forsworn our books:
For when would you, my liege, or you, or you,
In leaden contemplation have found out
Such fiery numbers as the prompting eyes
Of beauty's tutors have enrich'd you with?
Other slow arts entirely keep the brain;
And therefore finding barren practisers,
Scarce shew a harvest of their heavy toil.
&plquo;But love first learned in a lady's eyes,
&plquo;Lives not alone immured in the brain:
&plquo;But with the motion of all elements,
&plquo;Courses as swift as thought in every power,
&plquo;And gives to every power a double power,
&plquo;Above their functions and their offices.
&plquo;It adds a precious seeing to the eye:
&plquo;A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind!
&plquo;A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
&plquo;When the suspicious head of theft is stopt.
&plquo;Love's feeling is more soft and sensible,
&plquo;Than are the tender horns of cockled snails.
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in taste;
For valour, is not love a Hercules?
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides.
Subtle as Sphinx, as sweet and musical
As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair:
And when love speaks, the voice of all the Gods,
Make heaven drowsie with the harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs;
O then his lines would ravish savage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility,
-- 143 --
From womens eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire,
They are the books, the arts, the academes,
That shew, contain, and nourish all the world;
Else none at all in ought proves excellent.
Then fools you were, these women to forswear:
Or keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.
For wisdom's sake (a word that all men love)
Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men;
Or for mens sake, the author of these women;
Or womens sake, by whom we men are men;
Let us once lose our oaths, to find our selves;
Or else we lose our selves, to keep our oaths.
It is religion to be thus forsworn,
For charity it self fulfills the law;
And who can sever love from charity?
King.
Saint Cupid then, and soldiers to the field!
Biron.
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.
Long.
Now to plain-dealing, lay these glosses by,
Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?
King.
And win them too; therefore let us devise
Some entertainment for them in their tents.
Biron.
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,
Forerun fair love, strewing her way with flowers.
King.
Away, away, no time shall be omitted,
That will be time, and may by us be fitted.
-- 144 --
Biron.
Alone, alone sowed cockrel, 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.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Enter Holofernes, Nathaniel and Dull.
Holofernes.
Satis quod sufficit.
Nath.
I praise God for you, Sir, your reasons
at dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant
without scurrility, witty without affectation,
audacious without impudency, learned without
opinion, and strange without heresie: I did converse this quondam-day
with 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
gate majestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridiculous, and
thrasonical. He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too
odd, as it were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.
Nat.
A most singular and choice epithet.
[draws out his table-book.
Hol.
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than
the staple of his argument. I abhor such phanatical phantasms,
such insociable and point-devise companions, such rackers of orthography,
as do 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;
-- 145 --
neigh abbreviated ne: this is abominable, which we would call
abhominable: it insinuateth me of infamy: Ne intelligis Domine,
to make frantick, lunatick?
Nath.
Laus deo, bene intelligo.
Hol.
Bome boon for boon prescian; a little scratch, 'twill
serve.
†††SCENE II.
Enter Armado, Moth and Costard.
Nath.
Vides ne quis venit?
Hol.
Video, & gaudeo.
Arm.
Chirra.
Hol.
Quare Chirra, not Sirra?
Arm.
Men of peace, well encountred.
Hol.
Most military Sir, salutation.
Moth.
They have been at a great feast of languages, and
stole the the scraps.
Cost.
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: thou
art easier swallow'd than a flap-dragon.
Moth.
Peace, the peal begins.
Arm.
Monsieur, are you not letter'd?
Moth.
Yes, yes, he teaches boys the horn-book:
What is A B spelt backward with the horn on his head?
Hol.
Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.
Moth.
Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. You hear his
learning.
Hol.
Quis, quis, thou consonant?
Moth.
The last of the five vowels, if you repeat them, or
the fifth if I.
Hol.
I will repeat them, a e I—
-- 146 --
Moth.
The sheep; the other two concludes it out.
Arm.
Now by the salt wave of the Mediteraneum, a sweet
touch, a quick venew of wit; snip, snap, quick and home;
it rejoiceth my intellect; true wit.
Moth.
Offer'd by a child to an old man: which is wit-old.
Hol.
What is the figure? what is the figure?
Moth.
Horns.
Hol.
Thou disputest like an infant; go, whip thy gigg.
Moth.
Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip
about your infamy unum cita, a gigg of a cuckold's horn.
Cost.
And I had but one penny in the world, thou should'st
have it to buy ginger-bread; hold, there is the very remuneration
I had of thy master, thou half-penny purse of wit, thou
pidgeon-egg of discretion. O, and the heav'ns were so pleased
that thou wert but my bastard! what a joyful father wouldst
thou make me? go too, thou hast it ad dunghil, at the finger's
ends, as they say.
Hol.
Oh, I smell false latin, dunghil for unguem.
Arm.
Arts-man preambula; we will be singled 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, 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, choice, 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 ye, my very good friend; for what is inward between
us, let it pass—I do beseech thee, remember thy curtesie
-- 147 --
—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 secrecy—that
the King would have me present the princess (sweet chuck)
with some delightful ostentation, or show, or pageant, or antick,
or fire-work. Now understanding that the curate and
your sweet self are good at such eruptions, and sudden breaking
out of mirth (as it were) I have acquainted you withal, to the
end to crave your assistance.
Hol.
Sir, you shall present before her the nine worthies.
Sir, as concerning some entertainment of time, some show in
the posterior of this day, to be rendred by our assistants 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.
Nath.
Where will you find men worthy enough to present
them?
Hol.
Joshua, your self, this gallant gentleman Judas Machabeus,
this swain (because of his great limb or joint) shall pass
Pompey the great, and 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.
Moth.
An excellent device: so if any of the audience hiss,
-- 148 --
you may cry; well done, Hercules, now thou crushest the snake;
that is the way to make an offence gracious, tho' few have the
grace to do it.
Arm.
For the rest of the worthies?
Hol.
I will play three my self.
Moth.
Thrice worthy gentleman.
Arm.
Shall I tell you a thing?
Hol.
We attend.
Arm.
We will have, if this fadge not, an antique. I beseech
you follow.
Hol.
Via good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no word all this
while.
Dull.
Nor understood none neither, Sir.
Hol.
Allons, we will employ thee.
Dull.
I'll make one in a dance, or so: or I will play on the
taber to the worthies, and let them dance the hay.
Hol.
Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport away.
[Exe.
SCENE III.
†††Enter Princess, and Ladies.
Prin.
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.
Rosa.
Madam, came nothing else along with that?
Prin.
Nothing but this? yes, as much love in rhime,
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.
Rosa.
That was the way to make his god-head wax,
For he hath been five thousand years a boy.
-- 149 --
Kath.
Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
Rosa.
You'll ne'er be friends with him, he kill'd your sister.
Kath.
He made her melancholy, sad and heavy,
And so she died; had she been light like you,
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,
She might have been a grandam ere she dy'd.
And so may you; for a light heart lives long.
Rosa.
What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?
Kath.
A light condition, in a beauty dark.
Rosa.
We need more light to find your meaning out.
Kath.
You'll marr the light by taking it in snuff:
Therefore I'll darkly end the argument.
Rosa.
Look what you do, you do it still i'th' dark.
Kath.
So do not you, for you are a light wench.
Rosa.
Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.
Kath.
You weigh me not, O that's, you care not for me.
Rosa.
Great reason; for past care is still past cure.
Prin.
Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.
But Rosaline, you have a favour too?
Who sent it? and what is it?
Rosa.
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 a notefairs.
O he hath drawn my picture in his letter.
Prin.
Any thing like?
Rosa.
Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.
Prin.
Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.
Kath.
Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
-- 150 --
Rosa.
Ware pencils. How? let me not die your debter,
My red dominical, my golden letter.
O that your face were not so full of Oes.
Prin.
Pox of that jest, and I beshrew all shrews:
But Katherine, what was sent to you
From fair Dumain?
Kath.
Madam, this glove.
Prin.
Did he not send you twain?
Kath.
Yes, madam; and moreover,
Some thousand verses of a faithful lover.
A huge translation of hypocrisie,
Vildly compil'd, profound simplicity.
Mar.
This, and these pearls, to me sent Longaville.
The letter is too long by half a mile.
Prin.
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.
Prin.
We are wise girls, to mock our lovers so.
Rosa.
They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Biron I'll torture ere I go.
O that I knew he were but in by th' week,
How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek,
And wait the season, and observe the times,
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhimes,
And shape his service all to my behests,
And make him proud to make me proud with jests,
So pertaunt like would I o'ersway his state,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
Prin.
None are so surely caught, when they are catch'd,
As wit turn'd fool; folly in wisdom hatch'd
Hath wisdom's warrant, and the help of school,
And wit's own grace to grace a learned fool.
-- 151 --
Rosa.
The blood of youth burns not in such excess,
As gravities revolt to wantonness.
Mar.
Folly in fools bears not so strong a note,
As fool'ry in the wise, when wit doth dote:
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To prove by wit, worth in simplicity.
SCENE IV.
Enter Boyet.
Prin.
Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
Boyet.
O, I am stab'd with laughter, where's her Grace?
Prin.
Thy news, Boyet?
Boyet.
Prepare, madam, prepare.
Arm, wenches, arm, incounters 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.
Prin.
Saint Dennis, to saint Cupid; what are they
That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.
Boyet.
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 conn'd his embassage.
Action and accent did they teach him there;
Thus must thou speak, and thus thy body bear;
-- 152 --
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.
One rubb'd his elbow thus, and fleer'd, and swore,
A better speech was never spoke before.
Another with his finger and his thumb,
Cry'd via, we will do't, come what will come.
The third he caper'd and cry'd, all goes well:
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell.
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
To check their folly, passions, solemn tears.
Prin.
But what, but what, come they to visit us?
Boyet.
They do, they do; and are apparel'd thus,
Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I guess.
Their purpose is to parley, court and dance,
And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his several mistress; which they'll know
By favours sev'ral, which they did bestow.
Prin.
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 sute, 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.
-- 153 --
And change your favours too, so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes.
Rosa.
Come on then, wear the favours most in sight.
Kath.
But in this changing, what is your intent?
Prin.
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 councils they unbosom shall
To loves mistook, and so be mockt withal,
Upon the next occasion that we meet
With visages display'd to talk and greet.
Rosa.
But shall we dance, if they desire us to't?
Prin.
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.
Boyet.
Why that b notecontempt will kill the c notespeaker's heart,
And quite divorce his memory from his part.
Prin.
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 mockt, depart away with shame.
[Sound.
Boyet.
The trumpet sounds, be maskt, the maskers come.
†††SCENE V.
Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, Dumain, and attendants, disguis'd
like Muscovites. Moth with Musick, as for a masquerade.
Moth.
All hail the richest beauties on the earth.
Biron.
Beauties no richer than rich taffata.
Moth.
A holy parcel of the fairest dames that ever turn'd their
back to mortal views.
[The ladies turn their backs to him.
-- 154 --
Biron.
Their eyes, villain, their eyes.
Moth.
That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views. Out—
Biron.
True; out indeed.
Moth.
Out of your favours, heav'nly spirit, vouchsafe not to behold.
Biron.
Once to behold, rogue.
Moth.
Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes—
With your sun-beamed eyes—
Biron.
They will not answer to that epithete;
You were best call it daughter-beamed eyes.
Moth.
They do not mark me, and that brings me out.
Biron.
Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue.
Rosa.
What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet.
If they do speak our language, 'tis our will
That some plain man recount their purposes.
Know what they would.
Boyet.
What would you with the Princess?
Biron.
Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
Rosa.
What would they, say they?
Boyet.
Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
Rosa.
Why that they have, and bid them so be gone.
Boyet.
She says you have it, and you may be gone.
King.
Say to her, we have measur'd many miles,
To tread a measure with her on the grass.
Boyet.
They say they have measur'd many a mile,
To tread a measure with you on the grass.
Rosa.
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 easily told.
Boyet.
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?
-- 155 --
Biron.
Tell her we measure them by weary steps.
Boyet.
She hears her self.
Rosa.
How many weary steps
Of many weary miles you have o'ergone,
Are number'd in the travel of one mile?
Biron.
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 sunshine of your face,
That we (like savages) may worship it.
Rosa.
My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
King.
Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do.
Vouchsafe, bright moon, on these thy stars to shine
(Those clouds remov'd) upon our watery eyne.
Rosa.
O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter;
Thou now requests but moon-shine in the water.
King.
Then in our measure, vouchsafe but one change;
Thou bid'st me beg, this begging is not strange.
Rosa.
Play musick then; nay you must do it soon.
Not yet? no dance? thus change I like the moon.
King.
Will you not dance? how come you thus estrang'd?
Rosa.
You took the moon at full, but now she's chang'd.
King.
Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
Rosa.
The musick plays, vouchsafe some motion to it:
Our ears vouchsafe it.
King.
But your legs should do it.
Rosa.
Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,
We'll not be nice, take hands, we will not dance.
King.
Why take you hands then!
Rosa.
Only to part friends.
Curt'sie, sweet hearts, and so the measure ends.
King.
More measure of this measure; be not nice.
Rosa.
We can afford no more at such a price.
-- 156 --
King.
Prize your selves then; what buys your company?
Rosa.
Your absence only.
King.
That can never be.
Rosa.
Then cannot we be bought; and so adieu;
Twice to your visor, and half once to you.
King.
If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.
Rosa.
In private then.
King.
I am best pleas'd with that.
Biron.
White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
Prin.
Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.
Biron.
Nay then two treys; and if you grow so nice,
Methegline, wort, and malmsey; well run, dice:
There's half a dozen sweets.
Prin.
Seventh sweet adieu,
Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.
Biron.
One word in secret.
Prin.
Let it not be sweet.
Biron.
Thou griev'st my gall.
Prin.
Gall, bitter.
Biron.
Therefore meet.
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.
Kath.
What, was your vizard made without a tongue?
Long.
I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
Kath.
O for your reason, quickly Sir, I long.
Long.
You have a double tongue within your mask,
And would afford my speechless vizard half.
Kath.
Veal, quoth the Dutch man; is not veal a calf?
Long.
A calf, fair lady?
-- 157 --
Kath.
No, a fair lord calf.
Long.
Let's part the word.
Kath.
No, I'll not be your half;
Take all and wean it; it may prove an ox.
Long.
Look how you butt your self in these sharp mocks!
Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
Kath.
Then die a calf before your horns do grow.
Long.
One word in private with you ere I die.
Kath.
Bleat softly then, the butcher hears you cry.
Boyet.
The tongue 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,
Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.
Rosa.
Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.
Biron.
By heav'n all dry beaten with pure scoff.
King.
Farewell, mad wenches, you have simple wits.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VI.
Prin.
Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.
Are these the breed of wits so wondred at?
Boyet.
Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puft out.
Rosa.
Well-liking wits they have, gross, gross, fat, fat.
Prin.
O poverty in wit, kingly poor flout:
Will they not (think you) hang themselves to-night?
Or ever but in vizards shew their faces?
This pert Biron was out of count'nance quite.
Rosa.
O! they were all in lamentable cases.
The King was weeping-ripe for a good word.
Prin.
Biron did swear himself out of all suit.
Mar.
Dumain was at my service, and his sword:
-- 158 --
No point, quoth I; my servant strait was mute.
Kath.
Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart;
And trow you what he call'd me!
Prin.
Qualm, perhaps.
Kath.
Yes, in good faith.
Prin.
Go, sickness as thou art.
Rosa.
Well, better wits have worn plain statute caps.
But will you hear; the King is my love sworn.
Prin.
And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Kath.
And Longaville was for my service born.
Mar.
Dumain is mine as sure as bark on tree.
Boyet.
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.
Prin.
Will they return?
Boyet.
They will, they will, God knows;
And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:
Therefore change favours, and when they repair,
Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.
Prin.
How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.
Boyet.
Fair ladies maskt, are roses in their bud:
Dismaskt, their damask sweet commixture shown,
Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.
Prin.
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 vildly pen'd,
-- 159 --
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our tent to us.
Boyet.
Ladies, withdraw, the gallants are at hand.
Prin.
Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er the land.
[Exeunt.
SCENE VII.
Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their own habits.
King.
Fair Sir, God save you. Where's the Princess?
Boyet.
Gone to her tent.
Please it your Majesty command me any service to her?
King.
That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
Boyet.
I will, and so will she, I know, my lord.
[Exit.
Biron.
This fellow picks up wit as pigeons peas,
And utters it again, when Jove doth please:
He is wit's pedlar, and retails his wares
At wakes and wassals, 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.
He can carve too, and lisp: why this is he,
That kist away his hand in courtesie.
This is the ape of d noteform, Monsieur the nice,
That when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms: nay he can sing
A mean most e notemainly, 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.
-- 160 --
And consciences that will not die in debt,
Pay him the f notedue of honey-tongu'd Boyet.
King.
A blister on his sweet tongue with my heart,
That put Armado's page out of his part.
SCENE VIII.
Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Katherine, and attendants.* note
King.
We come to visit you, and purpose now
To lead you to our court, vouchsafe it then.
Prin.
This field shall hold me, and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men.
King.
Rebuke me not for that which you provoke;
The vertue of your eye must break my oath.
Prin.
You nick-name virtue: vice you should have spoke:
For virtue's office never breaks mens 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 heav'nly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
King.
O you have liv'd in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
Prin.
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.
King.
How, madam? Russians?
Prin.
Ay in truth, my lord;
-- 161 --
Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.
Rosa.
Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord:
My lady (to the manner of the days)
In courtesie gives undeserving praise.
We four indeed confronted were with four,
In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace, and 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.
Biron.
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, as to your huge store,
Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor.
Rosa.
This proves you wise and rich; for in my eye—
Biron.
I am a fool, and full of poverty.
Rosa.
But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
Biron.
O, I am yours, and all that I possess.
Rosa.
All the fool mine?
Biron.
I cannot give you less.
Rosa.
Which of the vizards was it that you wore?
Biron.
Where? when? what vizard? why demand you this?
Rosa.
There, then, that vizard, that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and shew'd the better face.
King.
We are descried, they'll mock us now downright.
Dum.
Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.
Prin.
Amaz'd, my lord? why looks your highness sad?
Rosa.
Help, hold his brows, he'll swoon: why look you pale?
-- 162 --
Sea-sick I think, coming from Muscovy.
Biron.
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 wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.
O! never will I trust to speeches pen'd,
Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue,
Nor never come in vizard to my friend,
Nor woo in rhime like a blind harper's song;
Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,
Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation,
Figures pedantical, these summer flies,
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation.
I do forswear them, and I here protest,
By this white glove (how white the hand God knows)
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be exprest
In russet yeas, and honest kersie noes:
And to begin, wench, so God help me law,
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
Rosa.
Sans, sans, I pray you.
Biron.
Yet I have a trick
Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick.
I'll leave it by degrees: soft, let us see,
Write Lord have mercy on us, and those three,
They are infected, in their hearts it lyes,
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes:
These lords are visited, you are not free;
For the lord's tokens on you both I see.
-- 163 --
Prin.
No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
Biron.
Our states are forfeit, seek not to undo us.
Rosa.
It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue.
Biron.
Peace, for I will not have to do with you.
Rosa.
Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
Biron.
Speak for your selves, my wit is at an end.
King.
Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression
Some fair excuse.
Prin.
The fairest is confession.
Were you not here but even now disguis'd?
King.
Madam, I was.
Prin.
And were you well advis'd?
King.
I was, fair madam.
Prin.
When you then were here,
What did you whisper in your lady's ear?
King.
That more than all the world I did respect her.
Prin.
When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.
King.
Upon mine honour no.
Prin.
Peace, peace, forbear:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
King.
Despise me when I break this oath of mine.
Prin.
I will, and therefore keep it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
Rosa.
Madam, he swore that he did hold 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.
Prin.
God give thee joy of him; the noble lord
Most honourably doth uphold his word.
King.
What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,
I never swore this lady such an oath.
-- 164 --
Rosa.
By heav'n you did; and to confirm it plain,
You gave me this: but take it, Sir, again.
King.
My faith and this, to th' Princess I did give;
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.
Prin.
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?
Biron.
Neither of either: I remit both twain.
I see the trick on't; here was a consent,
(Knowing aforehand of our merriment)
To dish it like a Christmas comedy.
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick
That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh, when she's dispos'd,
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 Boyet.
Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by th' g notesquier,
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.
Boyet.
Full merrily
Brave manager, hath this career been run.
Biron.
Lo, he is tilting strait. Peace, I have done.
-- 165 --
Enter Costard.
Welcome pure wit, thou partest a fair fray.
Cost.
O lord Sir, they would know
Whether the three worthies shall come in, or no.
Biron.
What, are there but three?
Cost.
No Sir, but it is very fine;
For every one presents three.
Biron.
And three times thrice is nine?
Cost.
Not so Sir, under correction Sir, I hope it is not so.
You cannot beg us Sir, I can assure you Sir, we know what we
know: I hope three times thrice, Sir—
Biron.
Is not nine.
Cost.
Under correction Sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.
Biron.
By Jove I always took three threes for nine.
Cost.
O lord Sir, it were pity you should get your living by
reckoning, Sir.
Biron.
How much is it?
Cost.
O lord Sir, the parties themselves, the actors Sir, will
shew whereuntil it doth amount; for my own part, I am, as
they say, but to perfect one man in one poor man, Pompion
the Great, Sir.
Biron.
Art thou one of the worthies?
Cost.
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.
Biron.
Go bid them prepare.
Cost.
We will turn it finely off, Sir, we will take some care.
King.
Biron, they will shame us; let them not approach.
[Exit Cost.
Biron.
We are shame-proof, my lord; and 'tis some policy
To have one show worse than the King and his company.
King.
I say they shall not come.
-- 166 --
Prin.
Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now;
That sport best pleases, that doth least know how.
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents;
Their form confounded, makes most form in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
Biron.
A right description of our sport, my lord.
SCENE IX.
Enter Armado.
Arm.
Anointed, I implore so much expence of thy royal
sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.
Prin.
Doth this man serve God?
Biron.
Why ask you?
Prin.
He speaks not like a man of God's making.
Arm.
That's all one, my fair sweet honey monarch; for I
protest the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical: too too vain,
too too vain: but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna delaguar.
I wish you the peace of mind, most royal cupplement.
King.
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.
Biron.
There are five in the first shew.
King.
You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so.
Biron.
The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool, and the boy.
A bare throw at novum, and the whole world again
Cannot prick out five such, take each one in's vein.
King.
The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.
-- 167 --
Enter Costard for Pompey.
Cost.
I Pompey am.
Boyet.
You lye, you are not he.
Cost.
I Pompey am.
Boyet.
With Libbard's head on knee.
Biron.
Well said old mocker,
I must needs be friends with thee.
Cost.
I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the Big.
Dum.
The Great.
Cost.
It is great, Sir; Pompey, surnam'd the Great;
That oft in field, with targe and shield,
Did make my foe to sweat:
And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance;
And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France.
If your ladyship would say thanks Pompey, I had done.
Prin.
Great thanks, great Pompey.
Cost.
'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect. I
made a little fault in great.
Biron.
My hat to a half-penny, Pompey proves the best worthy.
Enter Nathaniel for Alexander.
Nath.
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 escutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander.
Boyet.
Your nose says no, you are not; for it stands not right.
Biron.
Your nose smells no, in this most tender smelling Knight.
Prin.
The conqueror is dismaid: proceed, good Alexander.
Nath.
When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander.
Boyet.
Most true, 'tis right; you were so Alisander.
-- 168 --
Biron.
Pompey the Great.
Cost.
Your servant and Costard.
Biron.
Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.
Cost.
O Sir, you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror.
[to Nath.] You will be scrap'd out of the painted cloth for this;
your lion that holds the poll-ax sitting on a closestool, will be
given to Ajax; he will be then the ninth worthy. A conqueror,
and afraid to speak? run away for shame, Alisander. There,
an't shall please you; a foolish mild man, an honest man, look
you, and soon dash'd. He is a marvellous good neighbour insooth,
and a very good bowler; but for Alisander, alas you see,
how 'tis a little o'er-parted: but there are worthies a coming
will speak their mind in some other sort.
Biron.
Stand aside, good Pompey.
Enter Holofernes for Judas, and Moth for Hercules.
Hol.
Great Hercules is presented by this imp,
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.
[Exit Moth.
Hol.
Judas I am.
Dum.
A Judas.
Hol.
Not Iscariot, Sir,
Judas I am, ycleped Machabeus.
Dum.
Judas Machabeus clipt, is plain Judas.
Biron.
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?
Boyet.
To make Judas hang himself.
-- 169 --
Hol.
Begin Sir, you are my elder.
Biron.
Well follow'd, Judas was hang'd on an elder.
Hol.
I will not be put out of countenance.
Biron.
Because thou hast no face.
Hol.
What is this?
Boyet.
A cittern head.
Dum.
The head of a bodkin.
Biron.
A death's face in the ring.
Long.
The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
Boyet.
The pummel of Cæsar's faulchion.
Dum.
The carv'd-bone face on a flask.
Biron.
St. George's half cheek in a broch.
Dum.
Ay, and in a broch of lead.
Biron.
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.
Biron.
False, we have given thee faces.
Hol.
But you have out-fac'd them all.
Biron.
And thou wert a lion we would do so.
Boyet.
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.
Biron.
For the Ass to the Jude; give it him. Jud-as away.
Hol.
This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
Boyet.
A light for monsieur Judas, it grows dark, he may stumble.
Prin.
Alas poor Machabeus, how he hath been baited.
Enter Armado.
Biron.
Hide thy head Achilles, here comes Hector in arms.
Dum.
Tho' my mocks come home by me, I will now be
merry.
King.
Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
-- 170 --
Boyet.
But is this Hector?
King.
I think Hector was not so clean timber'd.
Long.
His leg is too big for Hector.
Dum.
More calf, certain.
Boyet.
No; he is best indu'd in the small.
Biron.
This can't be Hector.
Dum.
He's a God or a painter, for he makes faces.
Arm.
The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty,
Gave Hector a gift.
Dum.
A gilt nutmeg.
Biron.
A lemon.
Long.
Stuck with cloves.
Dum.
No, cloven.
Arm.
The armipotent Mars, of launces the Almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breathed, that certain he would fight ye
From morn 'till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower.
Dum.
That mint.
Long.
That cullambine.
Arm.
Sweet lord Longaville rein thy tongue.
Long.
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 bury'd:
But I will forward with my device;
Sweet royalty bestow on me the sense of hearing.
Prin.
Speak brave Hector; we are much delighted.
Arm.
I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.
Boyet.
Loves her by the foot.
Dum.
He may not by the yard.
Arm.
This Hector far surmounted Hannibal.
The party is gone.
-- 171 --
Cost.
Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her
way.
Arm.
What mean'st thou?
Cost.
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.
Arm.
Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou
shalt die.
Cost.
Then shall Hector be whipt for Jaquenetta, that is
quick by him; and hang'd for Pompey, that is dead by him.
Dum.
Most rare Pompey!
Boyet.
Renown'd Pompey!
Biron.
Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey
the huge!
Dum.
Hector trembles.
Biron.
Pompey is mov'd, more Ates, more Ates, stir them
on, stir them on.
Dum.
Hector will challenge him.
Biron.
Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly than
will sup a flea.
Arm.
By the north pole I do challenge thee.
Cost.
I will not fight with a pole like a northern man; I'll
slash; I'll do't by the sword: I pray you let me borrow my arms
again.
Dum.
Room for the incensed worthies.
Cost.
I'll do't in my shirt.
Dum.
Most resolute Pompey.
Moth.
Master, 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.
Arm.
Gentlemen and soldiers pardon me, I will not combat
in my shirt.
Dum.
You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the challenge.
-- 172 --
Arm.
Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
Biron.
What reason have you for't?
Arm.
The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt, I go woolward
for penance.
Boyet.
True, 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 he wears next his heart for a favour.
SCENE X.
Enter Macard.
Mac.
God save you, madam.
Prin.
Welcome Macard, but that thou interruptest our merriment.
Mac.
I'm sorry madam, for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue. The King your father—
Prin.
Dead for my life.
Mac.
Even so: my tale is told.
Biron.
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 my self like a soldier.
[Exeunt Worthies.
King.
How fares your Majesty?
Prin.
Boyet prepare, I will away to-night.
King.
Madam not so, I do beseech you stay.
Prin.
Prepare I say. I thank you, gracious lords,
For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
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 our selves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewel, worthy lord;
-- 173 --
An heavy heart bears not an humble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks,
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.
King.
The extreme parts of time extremely forms
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 courtesie 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.
Prin.
I understand you not, my griefs are double.
Biron.
Honest plain words best pierce the h noteear 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 deformed us, fashioning our humours
Even to th'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 straying shapes, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth rowl,
To every varied object in his glance;
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if in your heav'nly eyes,
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities;
Those heav'nly eyes that look into these faults,
-- 174 --
Suggested us to make them: therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours. We to our selves 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 it self a sin,
Thus purifies it self, and turns to grace.
Prin.
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 courtesie,
As bumbast, and as lining to the time:
But more devout than these are 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.
Long.
So did our looks.
Rosa.
We did not coat them so.
King.
Now at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
Prin.
A time methinks too short,
To 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;
-- 175 --
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this tryal, and last love;
Then at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts;
And by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and till that instant shut
My woful 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 intitled in the other's heart.
King.
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.
Biron.
And what to me, my love? and what to me?
Rosa.
You must be purged too, your sins are rank,
You are attaint with fault and perjury;
Therefore if you my favour mean to get,
A twelve-month shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.
Dum.
But what to me, my love? but what to me?
Kath.
A wife, a beard, fair health and honesty;
With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
Dum.
O shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
Kath.
Not so, my lord; a twelve-month 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.
Kath.
Yet swear not, left ye be forsworn again.
Long.
What says Maria?
-- 176 --
Mar.
At the twelve-month's end,
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
Long.
I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
Mar.
The liker you, few taller are so young.
Biron.
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.
Rosa.
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,
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,
Which you on all estates will execute,
That lye 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 twelve-month 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,
T'enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Biron.
To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be, it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
Rosa.
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 lies 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,
-- 177 --
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.
Biron.
A twelve-month? well, befall what will befall,
I'll jest a twelve-month in an hospital.
Prin.
Ay, sweet my lord, and so I take my leave.
[to the King.
King.
No Madam, we will bring you on your way.
Biron.
Our wooing doth not end like an old play;
Jack hath not Jill; these ladies courtesie
Might well have made our sport a comedy.
King.
Come, Sir, it wants a twelve-month and a day,
And then 'twill end.
Biron.
That's too long for a play.
Enter Armado.
Arm.
Sweet Majesty, vouchsafe me.
Prin.
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 years. But, most esteem'd greatness, will
you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled,
in praise of the owl and the cuckow? it should have follow'd
in the end of our shew.
King.
Call them forth quickly, we will do so.
Arm.
Holla, approach.
Enter all.
This side is Hiems, winter.
This Ver, the spring: the one maintain'd by the owl,
The other by the cuckow.
Ver, begin.
-- 178 --
The SONG.
When daizies pied, and violets blue,
And cuckow-buds of yellow hue,
And lady-smocks all silver white,
Do paint the meadows with delight;
The cuckow then on every tree
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckow.
Cuckow, cuckow: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmens clocks:
When turtles tread, and rooks and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks;
The cuckow then on every tree
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckow.
Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
WINTER.
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
Tu-whit, to-who;
A merry note,
While greasie Jone doth keel the pot.
-- 179 --
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,
Tu-whit, to-who;
A merry note,
While greasie Jone doth keel the pot.
Arm.
The words of Mercury
Are harsh after the songs of Apollo:
You that way, we this way.
[Exeunt omnes.
