There is a general concurrence of opinion that “Love's Labour's Lost” was one of Shakespeare's earliest productions for the stage. In his course of Lectures delivered in 1818, Coleridge was so convinced upon this point, that he said, “the internal evidence was indisputable;” and in his “Literary Remains,” II. 102, we find him using these expressions:—“The characters in this play are either impersonated out of Shakespeare's own multiformity, by imaginative self-position, or out of such as a country town and a school-boy's observation might supply1 note.” The only objection to this theory is, that at the time “Love's Labour's Lost” was composed, the author seems to have been acquainted in some degree with the nature of the Italian comic performances; but this acquaintance he might have acquired comparatively early in life. The character of Armado is that of a Spanish braggart, very much such a personage as was common on the Italian stage, and figures in Gl' Ingannati, (which, as the Rev. Joseph Hunter was the first to point out, Shakespeare saw before he wrote his “Twelfth Night,”) under the name of Giglio: in the same comedy we have M. Piero Pedante, a not unusual character in pieces of that description. Holofernes is repeatedly called “the Pedant” in the old copies of “Love's Labour's Lost2 note,” while Armado is more frequently
-- 280 --
introduced as “the Braggart” than by his name. Steevens, after stating that he had not been able to discover any novel from which this comedy had been derived, adds that “the story has most of the features of an ancient romance;” but it is not at all impossible that Shakespeare found some corresponding incidents in an Italian play. However, after a long search, I have not met with any such production, although, if used by Shakespeare, it most likely came into this country in a printed form.
The question whether Shakespeare visited Italy, and at what period of his life, cannot properly be considered here; but it is a very important point in relation both to his biography and works. It was certainly a very general custom for our poets to travel thither towards the close of the reign of Elizabeth, and various instances of the kind are on record. Robert Greene tells us in his “Repentance,” 1592, that he had been in Italy and Spain: Thomas Nash, about the same date, mentions what he had seen in France and Italy; and Daniel has several early sonnets on his “going into Italy,” and on his residence there. Some of our most celebrated actors of that time also made journeys across the Alps; and Mr. Halliwell, in the notes to his “Coventry Mysteries,” printed for the Shakespeare Society, has shown that Kemp, the comedian, who, as we have seen, performed Dogberry in “Much Ado about Nothing,” was in Rome in 1601.
It is vain to attempt to fix with any degree of precision the date when “Love's Labour's Lost” came from the author's pen. It is very certain that Biron and Rosaline are early sketches of two characters to which Shakespeare subsequently gave greater force and effect—Benedick and Beatrice; but this only shows, what cannot be doubted, that “Love's Labour's Lost” was anterior in composition to “Much Ado about Nothing.” “Love's Labour's Lost” was first printed, as far as we now know, in 1598, 4to, and then it professed on the title-page to have been “newly corrected and augmented:” we are likewise there told that it was presented before Queen Elizabeth “this last Christmas.” It was not uncommon for dramatists to revise and add to their plays when they were selected for exhibition at court, and such may have been the case with “Love's Labour's Lost.” “This last Christmas” probably meant Christmas, 1598; for the year at this period did not end until 25th March. It seems likely that the comedy had been written six or even eight years before, that it was revived in 1598, with certain corrections and augmentations for performance before the Queen; and this circumstance may have led to its publication immediately afterwards.
-- 281 --
The evidence derived from passages and allusions in the piece, to which Malone refers in his “Chronological Order,” is clearly of little value, and he does not himself place much confidence in it. “Love Labour Lost” is mentioned by Meres in 1598, and in the same year came out a poem by R[obert] T[ofte] entitled “Alba,” in the commencement of one of the stanzas of which this comedy is introduced by name:—
“Love's Labour Lost I once did see, a play
Ycleped so.”
This does not read as if the writer intended to say that he had seen it recently. There is a coincidence in Act. iii. sc. 1, which requires notice: Costard there jokes upon the difference between “remuneration” and “guerdon;” and Steevens contended that Shakespeare was “certainly indebted for his vein of jocularity” in this instance to a tract by I[ervase] M[arkham], called, “A Health to the Gentlemanly Profession of Serving Men,” which Dr. Farmer informed him was published in 1578. The fact, however, is, that this tract did not appear until 1598, the year in which “Love's Labour's Lost” came from the press. It was, possibly, a current jest, and it will be found quoted correctly from the original, and not as Steevens inserted it, in a note upon the passage.
It is capable of proof that the play, as it stands in the folio of 1623, was reprinted from the 4to. of 1598, as it adopts various errors of the press, which could not have found their way into the folio, had it been taken from a distinct manuscript. There are, however, variations, which might show that the player-editors of the folio resorted occasionally to some authority besides the 4to. These differences are pointed out in the notes. The 4to. has no divisions into Acts and Scenes; and the folio only distinguishes the Acts, but with considerable inequality: thus the third Act only occupies about a page and a half, while the fifth Act (misprinted Actus Quartus) fills nine pages. Nevertheless, it would have been taking too great a liberty to alter the arrangement in this respect, although, as the reader will perceive, it might be improved without much difficulty.
There is no entry of “Love's Labour's Lost” at Stationers' Hall, until 22d Jan. 1606–7, when it was transferred by Burby (the publisher of it in 1598) to Ling, who perhaps contemplated a new edition. If it were printed in 1606 or 1607, no such impression has come down to us. Its next appearance was in the folio, 1623; but another 4to, of no authority, was published in 1631, the year before the date of the second folio.
-- 282 --
1 note.
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
FERDINAND, King of Navarre.
BIRON [Berowne], A Lord, attending on the King.
LONGAVILLE, A Lord, attending on the King.
DUMAINE [Dumain], A Lord, attending on the King.
BOYET, A Lord, attending on the Princess of France.
MERCADE, A Lord, attending on the Princess of France.
DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, a Spaniard.
SIR NATHANIEL, a Curate.
HOLOFERNES, a Schoolmaster.
DULL, a Constable.
COSTARD, a Clown.
MOTH, Page to Armado.
A Forester.
Princess of France.
ROSALINE, Lady, attending on the Princess
MARIA, Lady, attending on the Princess
KATHARINE, Lady, attending on the Princess
JAQUENETTA, a country wench.
Officers and others, attendants on the King and Princess.
[Lord 1]
SCENE, Navarre.
-- 283 --
LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
Navarre. A Park, with a Palace in it.
Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumaine.
King.
Let fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live register'd upon our brazen tombs,
And then grace us in the disgrace of death;
When, spite of cormorant devouring time,
Th' endeavour of this present breath may buy
That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen edge,
And make us heirs of all eternity.
Therefore, brave conquerors!—for so you are,
That war against your own affections,
And the huge army of the world's desires,—
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force.
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world:
Our court shall be a little Academe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
You three, Biron1 note, Dumaine, and Longaville,
Have sworn for three years' term to live with me,
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes,
That are recorded in this schedule here:
Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your names,
-- 284 --
That his own hand may strike his honour down,
That violates the smallest branch herein.
If you are arm'd to do, as sworn to do,
Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too2 note.
Long.
I am resolv'd: 'tis but a three years' fast.
The mind shall banquet, though the body pine:
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits
Make rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits3 note
.
Dum.
My loving lord, Dumaine is mortified.
The grosser manner of these world's delights
He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves:
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die,
With all these living in philosophy.
Biron.
I can but say their protestation over;
So much, dear liege, I have already sworn,
That is, to live and study here three years.
But there are other strict observances;
As, not to see a woman in that term,
Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there:
And, one day in a week to touch no food,
And but one meal on every day beside,
The which, I hope, is not enrolled there:
And then, to sleep but three hours in the night,
And not be seen to wink of all the day,
When I was wont to think no harm all night,
And make a dark night, too, of half the day,
Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there.
O! these are barren tasks, too hard to keep,
Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep.
-- 285 --
King.
Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these.
Biron.
Let me say no, my liege, an if you please.
I only swore to study with your grace,
And stay here in your court for three years' space.
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 recompense.
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 feast expressly am forbid 11Q01974 note;
Or study where to meet some mistress fine,
When mistresses from common sense are hid;
Or, having sworn too hard-a-keeping oath,
Study to break it, and not break my troth.
If study's gain be thus, and this be so,
Study knows that which yet it doth not know.
Swear me to this, and I will ne'er say no.
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 vain5 note,
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 falsely blind the eyesight 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.
-- 286 --
Study me how to please the eye indeed,
By fixing it upon a fairer eye;
Who dazzling so, that eye shall be his heed,
And give him light that it was blinded by.
Study is like the heaven's glorious sun,
That will not be deep-search'd with saucy 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 well6 note, 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 rhyme.
King.
Biron is like an envious sneaping frost7 note,
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 any abortive birth8 note?
-- 287 --
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 to unlock the little gate 11Q01989 note
.
King.
Well, sit you out1 note: go home, Biron: adieu!
Biron.
No, my good lord; I have sworn to stay with you:
And, though I have for barbarism spoke more,
Than for that angel knowledge you can say,
Yet confident I'll keep what I have sworne2 note,
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. [Reads.]
Item, “That no woman shall come
within a mile of my court.”—Hath this been proclaim'd?
Long.
Four days ago.
Biron.
Let's see the penalty. [Reads.] “On pain
of losing her tongue.”—Who devis'd this penalty?
Long.
Marry, that did I.
Biron.
Sweet lord, and why?
Long.
To fright them hence with that dread penalty.
Biron.
A dangerous law against gentility3 note!
[Reads.] Item, “If any man be seen to talk with
a woman within the term of three years, he shall endure
-- 288 --
such public shame as the rest of the court can possibly
devise4 note.”—
This article, my liege, yourself must break;
For, well you know, here comes in embassy
The French king's daughter with yourself to speak,—
A maid of grace, and complete majesty,—
About surrender up of Aquitain
To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father:
Therefore, this article is made in vain,
Or vainly comes 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.
King.
We must of force dispense with this decree:
She must lie here on mere necessity.
Biron.
Necessity will make us all forsworn
Three thousand times within this three years' space;
For every man with his affects is born;
Not by might master'd, but by special grace.
If I break faith, this word shall speak for me 11Q01995 note,
I am forsworn on mere necessity.—
So to the laws at large I write my name;
[Subscribes.
And he, that breaks them in the least degree,
Stands in attainder of eternal shame.
Suggestions6 note 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
-- 289 --
With a refined traveller of Spain;
A man in all the world's new fashion planted, 11Q0200
That hath a mint of phrases in his brain:
One, whom the music of his own vain tongue
Doth ravish like enchanting harmony;
A man of complements, whom right and wrong
Have chose as umpire of their mutiny:
This child of fancy, that Armado hight6 note,
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 minstrelsy7 note.
Biron.
Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight.
Long.
Costard, the swain, and he shall be our sport;
And so to study, three years is but short.
Enter Dull8 note, with a letter, and Costard.
Dull.
Which is the duke's own person?
Biron.
This, fellow. What would'st?
Dull.
I myself reprehend his own person, for I am
his grace's tharborough9 note: but I would see his own
person in flesh and blood.
Biron.
This is he.
Dull.
Signior Arm—Arm—commends you. There's
villainy 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.
-- 290 --
Long.
A high hope for a low having10 note: God grant us
patience! 11Q0201
Biron.
To hear, or forbear hearing?
Long.
To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately;
or to forbear both.
Biron.
Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us
cause to climb in the merriness11 note.
Cost.
The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta.
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner1 note.
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.
Biron.
For the following, sir?
Cost.
As it shall follow in my correction; and God
defend the right!
King.
Will you hear this letter with attention?
Biron.
As we would hear an oracle.
Cost.
Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after
the flesh.
King. [Reads.]
“Great deputy, the welkin's vicegerent,
and sole dominator of Navarre, my soul's earth's
God, and body's fostering patron,—”
Cost.
Not a word of Costard yet.
King.
“So it is,—”
-- 291 --
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 physic of thy health-giving air;
and, as I am a gentleman, betook myself to walk. The
time when? About the sixth hour; when beasts most
graze, birds best peck, and men sit down to that nourishment
which is called supper. So much for the
time when. Now for the ground which; which, I
mean, I walked upon: it is ycleped2 note 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-coloured 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
garden3 note: there did I see that low-spirited swain, that
base minnow of thy mirth,”
Cost.
Me.
King.
“—that unletter'd small-knowing soul,”
Cost.
Me.
King.
“—that shallow vassal,”
Cost.
Still me.
King.
“—which, as I remember, hight Costard, 11Q0202”
Cost.
O! me.
King.
“—sorted and consorted, contrary to thy established
proclaimed edict and continent canon, with4 note—
-- 292 --
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 sweet understanding, a woman.
Him I (as my ever-esteemed duty pricks me on) have
sent to thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by
thy sweet grace's officer, Antony Dull, a man of good
repute, carriage, bearing, and estimation.”
Dull.
Me, an't shall please you: I am Antony Dull.
King.
“For Jaquenetta, (so is the weaker vessel
called) which I apprehended with the aforesaid swain,
I keep her as a vessel of thy law's fury; and shall, at
the least of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. Thine,
in all complements of devoted and heart-burning heat
of duty,
“Don Adriano de Armado.”
Biron.
This is not so well as I looked 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 proclaimed a year's imprisonment to
be taken with a wench.
Cost.
I was taken with none, sir: I was taken with a
damsel.
King.
Well, it was proclaimed damsel.
Cost.
This was no damsel neither, sir: she was a
virgin.
King.
It is so varied, too, for it was proclaimed
virgin.
Cost.
If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken
with a maid.
-- 293 --
King.
This maid will not serve your turn, sir.
Cost.
This maid will serve my turn, sir.
King.
Sir, I will pronounce your 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 King, Longaville, and Dumaine.
Biron.
I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.—
Sirrah, come on. 11Q0203
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 sour cup of prosperity5 note!
Affliction may one day smile again, and till then, set
thee down, sorrow6 note!
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Armado's House in the Park.
Enter Armado and Moth, his page.
Arm.
Boy, what sign is it7 note, 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.
-- 294 --
Moth.
No, no; O lord! sir, no.
Arm.
How canst thou part sadness and melancholy,
my tender juvenal?
Moth.
By a familiar demonstration of the working,
my tough senior.
Arm.
Why tough senior? why tough senior?
Moth.
Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?
Arm.
I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton
appertaining to thy young days, which we may
nominate tender.
Moth.
And I, tough senior, 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 ingenious8 note?
Moth.
That an eel is quick.
Arm.
I do say, thou art quick in answers. Thou
heatest my blood.
Moth.
I am answered, sir.
Arm.
I love not to be crossed.
Moth. [Aside.]
He speaks the mere contrary: crosses
love not him9 note?
Arm.
I have promised to study three years with the
duke.
Moth.
You may do it in an hour, sir.
Arm.
Impossible.
-- 295 --
Moth.
How many is one thrice told?
Arm.
I am ill at reckoning: it fitteth the spirit of a
tapster.
Moth.
You are a gentleman, and a gamester, sir.
Arm.
I confess both: they are both the varnish of a
complete 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 do call three.
Arm.
True.
Moth.
Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now,
here is three studied ere you'll thrice wink; and how
easy it is to put years to the word three, and study
three years in two words, the dancing horse will tell
you1 note.
Arm.
A most fine figure!
Moth. [Aside.]
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 devised courtesy.
I think scorn to sigh: methinks, I should out-swear
Cupid. Comfort me, boy. What great men have
been in love?
Moth.
Hercules, master.
-- 296 --
Arm.
Most sweet Hercules!—More authority, dear
boy, name more; and, sweet my child, let them be men
of good repute and carriage.
Moth.
Samson, 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 Samson! strong-jointed Samson!
I do excel thee in my rapier, as much as thou
didst me in carrying gates. I am in love too. Who
was Samson's love, my dear Moth?
Moth.
A woman, master.
Arm.
Of what complexion?
Moth.
Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or
one of the four.
Arm.
Tell me precisely of what complexion.
Moth.
Of the sea-water green, sir.
Arm.
Is that one of the four complexions?
Moth.
As I have read, sir; and the best of them
too.
Arm.
Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers; but
to have a love of that colour, methinks, Samson 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 thoughts2 note, master, are masked
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! 11Q0204
Moth.
If she be made of white and red,
Her faults will ne'er be known;
-- 297 --
For blushing3 note 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 owe4 note.
A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of white
and red.
Arm.
Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the
Beggar5 note?
Moth.
The world was very guilty of such a ballad
some three ages since, but, I think, now 'tis not to be
found; or, if it were, it would neither serve for the
writing, nor the tune.
Arm.
I will have that subject newly writ o'er, that I
may example my digression by some mighty precedent.
Boy, I do love that country girl, that I took in the
park with the rational hind Costard: she deserves well.
Moth. [Aside.]
To be whipped; 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.
Arm.
I say, sing.
Moth.
Forbear till this company be past.
Enter Dull, Costard, and Jaquenetta.
Dull.
Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard
safe: and you must let him take no delight, nor
no penance; but a' must fast three days a week. For
this damsel, I must keep her at the park; she is allowed
for the day-woman6 note
. Fare you well.
-- 298 --
Arm.
I do betray myself with blushing.—Maid.
Jaq.
Man.
Arm.
I will visit thee at the lodge.
Jaq.
That's hereby.
Arm.
I know where it is situate.
Jaq.
Lord, how wise you are!
Arm.
I will tell thee wonders.
Jaq.
With that face7 note?
Arm.
I love thee.
Jaq.
So I heard you say.
Arm.
And so farewell.
Jaq.
Fair weather after you!
Dull.
Come, Jaquenetta, away8 note.
[Exeunt Dull and Jaquenetta.
Arm.
Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences, 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 punished.
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!
Cost.
Let me not be pent up, sir: I will 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—
-- 299 --
Moth.
What shall some see?
Cost.
Nay nothing, master Moth, but what they look
upon. It is not for prisoners to be too silent9 note 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.
[Exeunt Moth and Costard.
Arm.
I do affect the very ground, which is base,
where her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot,
which is basest, doth tread. I shall be forsworn, (which
is a great argument of falsehood,) if I love; and how
can that be true love, which is falsely attempted? Love
is a familiar; love is a devil: there is no evil angel but
love. Yet was Samson so tempted10 note, and he had an
excellent strength: yet was Solomon so seduced, and
he had a very good wit. Cupid's butt-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 turn11 note; the passado he respects not, the duello
he regards not: his disgrace is to be called boy, but
his glory is, to subdue men. Adieu, valour! rust, rapier!
be still, drum! for your manager is in love; 11Q0205 yea, he
loveth. Assist me some extemporal god of rhyme, for,
I am sure, I shall turn sonneteer12 note. Devise wit, write
pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.
[Exit.
-- 300 --
ACT II.
SCENE I.
Another part of the Park. A Pavilion and Tents at a distance.
Enter the Princess of France, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet, Lords, and other Attendants.
Boyet.
Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits. 11Q0206
Consider whom the king your father sends,
To whom he sends, and what's his embassy:
Yourself, 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 your wit in the praise of mine.
But now to task the tasker.—Good Boyet,
You are not ignorant, all-telling fame
Doth noise abroad, Navarre hath made a vow,
Till painful study shall out-wear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to us seem'th it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
-- 301 --
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best moving fair solicitor.
Tell him, the daughter of the king of France,
On serious business, craving quick despatch,
Importunes personal conference with his grace.
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humble-visag'd suitors1 note, his high will.
Boyet.
Proud of employment, 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?
I Lord.
Longaville is one.
Prin.
Know you the man?
Mar.
I know him, madam: at a marriage feast,
Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir
Of Jaques Falconbridge, solemnized
In Normandy, saw I this Longaville.
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem'd2 note
;
Well fitted in arts; glorious in arms3 note:
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 none spare that come within his power.
Prin.
Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so?
Mar.
They say so most that most his humours know.
-- 302 --
Prin.
Such short-liv'd wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?
Kath.
The young Dumaine, a well-accomplish'd youth,
Of all that virtue love for virtue lov'd:
Most power to do most harm, least knowing ill,
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good,
And shape to win grace though he had no wit4 note.
I saw him at the duke Alençon's once;
And much too little of that good I saw
Is my report to his great worthiness.
Ros.
Another of these students at that time
Was there with him: if I have heard5 note 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?
Lord.
Here comes Boyet6 note.
Re-enter Boyet.
Prin.
Now, what admittance, lord?
Boyet.
Navarre had notice of your fair approach;
-- 303 --
And he, and his competitors in oath,
Were all address'd to meet you, gentle lady,
Before I came. Marry, thus much I have learnt,
He rather means to lodge you in the field,
Like one that comes here to besiege his court,
Than seek a dispensation for his oath,
To let you enter his unpeopled house7 note.
Here comes Navarre.
[The ladies mask.
Enter King, Longaville, Dumaine, Biron, and Attendants.
King.
Fair princess, 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
mine8 note.
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 it; 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,
-- 304 --
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.
[Gives a paper.
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 once9 note?
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 o' day?
Ros.
The hour that fools should ask.
Biron.
Now fair befal your mask!
Ros.
Fair fall the face it covers!
Biron.
And send you many lovers!
Ros.
Amen, so you be none.
Biron.
Nay, then will I begone.
King.
Madam, your father here doth intimate
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns;
Being but the one half of an entire sum,
Disbursed by my father in his wars.
But say, that he, or we, (as neither have,)
Receiv'd that sum, yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitain is bound to us,
Although not valued to the money's worth.
If, then, the king your father will restore
But that one half which is unsatisfied,
-- 305 --
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 demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;
Which we much rather had depart withal8 note,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain, so gelded as it is.
Dear princess, were not his requests so far
From reason's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding, 'gainst some reason in my breast,
And go well 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.
Satisfy 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 unto9 note.
Mean time, receive such welcome at my hand,
As honour, without breach of honour, may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness.
-- 306 --
You may not come, fair princess, within my gates10 note;
But here without you shall be so receiv'd,
As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Though so denied fair harbour in my house 11Q02071 note.
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell:
To-morrow shall we visit you again.
Prin.
Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace!
King.
Thy own wish wish I thee in every place!
[Exeunt King and his train.
Biron.
Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart2 note.
Ros.
Pray you, do my commendations; I would be
glad to see it.
Biron.
I would, you heard it groan.
Ros.
Is the fool sick3 note?
Biron.
Sick at the heart.
Ros.
Alack! let it blood.
Biron.
Would that do it good?
Ros.
My physic says, ay.
Biron.
Will you prick't with your eye?
Ros.
No point, with my knife4 note.
Biron.
Now, God save thy life!
Ros.
And yours from long living!
Biron.
I cannot stay thanksgiving.
[Retiring. 11Q0208
Dum.
Sir, I pray you, a word. What lady is that same?
Boyet.
The heir of Alençon, Rosaline her name.
Dum.
A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well.
[Exit.
-- 307 --
Long.
I beseech you a word. What is she in the white?
Boyet.
A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light5 note.
Long.
Perchance, light in the light. I desire her name.
Boyet.
She hath but one for herself; to desire that, were a shame.
Long.
Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
Boyet.
Her mother's, I have heard.
Long.
God's blessing on your beard!
Boyet.
Good sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Falconbridge.
Long.
Nay, my choler is ended.
She is a most sweet lady.
Boyet.
Not unlike, sir: that may be.
[Exit Long.
Biron.
What's her name, in the cap6 note?
Boyet.
Katharine, by good hap.
Biron.
Is she wedded, or no?
Boyet.
To her will, sir, or so.
Biron.
O! you are welcome, sir. Adieu.
Boyet.
Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.
[Exit Biron.—Ladies unmask.
Mar.
That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord:
Not a word with him but a jest.
Boyet.
And every jest but a word.
Prin.
It was well done of you to take him at his word.
Boyet.
I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.
Mar.
Two hot sheeps, marry!
Boyet.
And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.
-- 308 --
Mar.
You sheep, and I pasture: shall that finish the jest?
Boyet.
So you grant pasture for me.
[Offering to kiss her.
Mar.
Not so, gentle beast.
My lips are no common, though several they be7 note.
Boyet.
Belonging to whom?
Mar.
To my fortunes and me.
Prin.
Good wits will be jangling; but, gentles, agree.
This civil war of wits were much better used
On Navarre and his book-men, for here 'tis abused.
Boyet.
If my observation, (which very seldom lies,)
By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
Prin.
With what?
Boyet.
With that which we lovers entitle, affected.
Prin.
Your reason?
Boyet.
Why, all his behaviours did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:
His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed:
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair.
Methought, all his senses were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy;
-- 309 --
Who, tend'ring their own worth, from where they were glass'd8 note,
Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd.
His face's own margin did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
Prin.
Come to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd— note
Boyet.
But to speak that in words, which his eye hath disclos'd.
I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue, which I know will not lie.
Ros.
Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully.
Mar.
He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him.
Ros.
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?
Ros.
Ay, our way to be gone.
Boyet.
You are too hard for me.
[Exeunt.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
Another part of the Same.
Enter Armado and Moth9 note.
Arm.
Warble, child: make passionate my sense of hearing.
-- 310 --
Moth.
Concolinel—10 note
[Singing.
Arm.
Sweet air!—Go, tenderness of years: 11Q0209 take this
key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately1 note
hither; I must employ him in a letter to my
love.
Moth.
Master, will you win your love with a French
brawl2 note?
Arm.
How meanest thou? brawling in French?
Moth.
No, my complete master; but to jig off a
tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet3 note,
humour it with turning up your eye-lids4 note; sigh a note,
and sing a note; sometime through the throat, as if you
swallowed love with singing love; sometime through
the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love;
with your hat penthouse-like, o'er the shop of your
eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin belly's doublet,
like a rabbit 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 betrayed without these, and
make them men of note, (do you note, men?) that most
are affected to these.
Arm.
How hast thou purchased this experience? 11Q0210
Moth.
By my penny of observation5 note.
-- 311 --
Arm.
But O,—but O,—
Moth.
—the hobby-horse is forgot6 note.
Arm.
Callest thou my love hobby-horse?
Moth.
No, master; the hobby-horse 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 without,
upon the instant: by heart you love her, because your
heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her,
because your heart is in love with her; and out of heart
you love her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy
her.
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 sympathised: 11Q0211 a horse to be
ambassador for an ass.
Arm.
Ha, ha! what sayest thou?
Moth.
Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the
horse, for he is very slow-gaited: but I go.
Arm.
The way is but short. Away!
Moth.
As swift as lead, sir.
-- 312 --
Arm.
Thy meaning, pretty ingenious?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?
Moth.
Minime, 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 which is fir'd from a gun?
Arm.
Sweet smoke of rhetoric!
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:—
I shoot thee at the swain.
Moth.
Thump then, and I flee.
[Exit.
Arm.
A most acute juvenal; voluble and free of grace!
By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face:
Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. 11Q0212
My herald is return'd.
Re-enter Moth with Costard.
Moth.
A wonder, master! here's a Costard broken in a shin7 note.
Arm.
Some enigma, some riddle: come,—thy l'envoy;—begin8 note.
Cost.
No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy! no salve in
the male, sir9 note: O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain! no
l'envoy, no l'envoy: no salve, sir, but a plantain.
Arm.
By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly
thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes
-- 313 --
me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars!
Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and the
word l'envoy for a salve?
Moth.
Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy
a salve?
Arm.
No, page: it is an epilogue, or discourse, to make plain
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it1 note:
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
There's the moral: now the l'envoy.
Moth.
I will add the l'envoy. Say the moral again.
Arm.
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
Moth.
Until the goose came out of door,
And stay'd the odds by adding four.
Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with
my l'envoy.
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
Arm.
Until the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by adding four. 11Q0213
Moth.
A good l'envoy, ending in the goose. Would
you desire more?
Cost.
The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's flat.—
Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.—
To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose:
Let me see, a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose.
Arm.
Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?
Moth.
By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.
Then call'd you for the l'envoy.
-- 314 --
Cost.
True, and I for a plantain: thus came your argument in;
Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought,
And he ended the market.
Arm.
But tell me; how was there a Costard broken
in a shin?
Moth.
I will tell you sensibly.
Cost.
Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth: I will speak
that l'envoy.
I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.
Arm.
We will talk no more of this matter.
Cost.
Till there be more matter in the shin.
Arm.
Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee. 11Q0214
Cost.
O! marry me to one Frances?—I smell some
l'envoy, some goose, in this.
Arm.
By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at
liberty, enfreedoming thy person: thou wert immured,
restrained, captivated, bound.
Cost.
True, true; and now you will be my purgation,
and let me loose.
Arm.
I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance;
and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:
bear this significant to the country maid Jaquenetta.
There is remuneration; for the best ward of mine
honour2 note is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow.
[Exit.
Moth.
Like the sequel, I.—Signior Costard, adieu.
Cost.
My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew3 note!—
[Exit Moth.
Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration!
-- 315 --
O! that's the Latin word for three farthings: three
farthings, remuneration.—“What's the price of this
inkle4 note? a penny:—No, I'll give you a remuneration:”
why, it carries it.—Remuneration!—why, it is a fairer
name than French crown. I will never buy and sell
out of this word.
Enter Biron.
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-farthing-worth of silk.
Cost.
I thank your worship. God be wi' you.
Biron.
O, stay, slave! I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
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,
-- 316 --
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon: go.
[Gives him money.
Cost.
Guerdon.—O! sweet guerdon! better than
remuneration5 note
; eleven-pence farthing better. Most
sweet guerdon!—I will do it, sir, in print6 note.—Guerdon
—remuneration!
[Exit.
Biron.
O!—And I, forsooth, in love! I, that have been love's whip;
A very beadle to a humorous sigh;
A critic, nay, a night-watch constable,
A domineering pedant o'er the boy,
Than whom no mortal so magnificent!
This wimpled7 note, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This senior-junior8 note, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
Th'anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
-- 317 --
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of cod-pieces,
Sole imperator, and great general
Of trotting paritors9 note, (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 clock1 note,
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, 11Q0215
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, groan2 note:
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.
[Exit.
-- 318 --
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
Another part of the Same.
Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet, Lords, Attendants, and a Forester.
Prin.
Was that the king, that spurr'd his horse so hard
Against the steep uprising of the hill?
Boyet.
I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Prin.
Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting mind3 note.
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.—
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murderer in?
For.
Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.
Prin.
I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot.
For.
Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
Prin.
What, what? first praise me, and again say, no?
O, short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for woe!
For.
Yes, madam, fair.
Prin.
Nay, never paint me now:
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true.
[Giving him money.
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
For.
Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
-- 319 --
Prin.
See, see! my beauty will be sav'd by merit.
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise. 11Q0216—
But come, the bow:—now mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well is then accounted ill.
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot:
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't;
If wounding, then it was to show my skill,
That more for praise than purpose meant to kill.
And, out of question, so it is sometimes:
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes,
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart;
As I for praise alone now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.
Boyet.
Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty
Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?
Prin.
Only for praise; and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.
Enter Costard.
Prin.
Here comes a member of the commonwealth.
Cost.
God dig-you-den all4 note. Pray you, which is the
head lady?
Prin.
Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that
have no heads.
Cost.
Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin.
The thickest, and the tallest.
Cost.
The thickest, and the tallest? it is so; truth is truth.
An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One o' these maids' girdles for your waist should be fit.
Are not you the chief woman? you are the thickest here.
-- 320 --
Prin.
What's your will, sir? what's your will?
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 capon5 note.
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
itself, that thou art lovely. More fairer than fair, beautiful
than beauteous, truer than truth itself, have commiseration
on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous
and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the
pernicious and indubitate beggar Penelophon6 note; 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; Whom overcame he? the beggar.
The conclusion is victory: on whose side? the king's:
the captive is enriched: 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
-- 321 --
entreat thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange
for rags? robes; for tittles? titles; for thyself? me.
Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy
foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy
every part.
“Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
“Don Adriano de Armado.”
“Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roar
'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as his prey;
Submissive fall his princely feet before,
And he from forage will incline to play:
But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den7 note.”
Prin.
What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?
What vane? what weather-cock? did you ever hear better?
Boyet.
I am much deceiv'd, but I remember the style.
Prin.
Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.
Boyet.
This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court;
A phantasm, a Monarcho8 note
, and one that makes sport
To the prince, and his book-mates.
-- 322 --
Prin.
Thou, fellow, a word.
Who gave thee this letter?
Cost.
I told you; my lord.
Prin.
To whom shouldst thou give it?
Cost.
From my lord to my lady.
Prin.
From which lord, to which lady?
Cost.
From my lord Biron, 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.
[Exeunt Princess and Train.
Boyet.
Who is the suitor? who is the suitor9 note?
Ros.
Shall I teach you to know?
Boyet.
Ay, my continent of beauty.
Ros.
Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off!
Boyet.
My lady goes to kill horns; but if thou marry,
Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.
Finely put on!
Ros.
Well then, I am the shooter.
Boyet.
And who is your deer?
Ros.
If we choose by the horns, yourself: come not near.
Finely put on, indeed!—
Mar.
You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.
Boyet.
But she herself is hit lower. Have I hit her now?
Ros.
Shall I come upon thee with an old saying,
-- 323 --
that was a man when king Pepin of France was a little
boy, as touching the hit it?
Boyet.
So I may answer thee1 note with one as old, that
was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain was a
little wench, as touching the hit it.
Ros.
Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it, my good man.
Boyet.
An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
An I cannot, another can2 note
.
[Exeunt Ros. and Kath.
Cost.
By my troth, most pleasant: how both did fit it!
Mar.
A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit [it].
Boyet.
A mark! O! mark but that mark: a mark, says my lady.
Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if it may be.
Mar.
Wide o' the bow hand: i'faith your hand is out.
Cost.
Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.
Boyet.
An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.
Cost.
Then will she get the upshot by cleaving the pin3 note
note
.
Mar.
Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul.
-- 324 --
Cost.
She's too hard for you at pricks, sir: challenge her to bowl.
Boyet.
I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl.
[Exeunt Boyet and Maria.
Cost.
By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown!
Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him down!
O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit!
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it were, so fit.
Armado o' the one side4 note,—O, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!
To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly a' will swear!—
And his page o' t' other side, that handful of wit!
Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit! 11Q0217
Sola, sola!
[Shouting within5 note.
[Exit Costard.
11Q0218
SCENE II.
The Same.
Enter Holofernes, Sir Nathaniel, and Dull.
Nath.
Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the
testimony of a good conscience.
Hol.
The deer was, as you know, sanguis,—in blood;
ripe as the pomewater6 note, who now hangeth like a
jewel in the ear of cœlo,—the sky, the welkin, the
-- 325 --
heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the face of
terra,—the soil, the land, the earth.
Nath.
Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are
sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: but, sir, I
assure ye, it was a buck of the first head.
Hol.
Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
Dull.
'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket7 note.
Hol.
Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of
insinuation, as it were, in via, in way of explication;
facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare, to
show, as it were, his inclination,—after his undressed,
unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather
unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed fashion,—to insert
again my haud credo for a deer.
Dull.
I said, the deer was not a haud credo: 'twas a
pricket.
Hol.
Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus!—O, thou monster
ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!
Nath.
Sir, he hath never fed of the dainties that are
bred in a book; he hath not eat paper, as it were; he
hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished;
he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller
parts;
And such barren plants are set before us, that we thankful should be
(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts that do fructify in us more than he8 note;
For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool,
So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school: 11Q0219
-- 326 --
But, omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind,
Many can brook the weather, that love not the wind.
Dull.
You two are book men: can you tell by your wit,
What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five weeks old as yet?
Hol.
Dictynna9 note, good man Dull; Dictynna, good
man Dull.
Dull.
What is Dictynna?
Nath.
A title to Phœbe, to Luna, to the moon.
Hol.
The moon was a month old when Adam was no more;
And raught not1 note to five weeks, when he came to five-score.
The 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 pollusion holds in the exchange,
for the moon is never but a month old; and I say beside,
that 'twas a pricket that the princess kill'd.
Hol.
Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal
epitaph on the death of the deer? and, to humour the
ignorant, I have2 note call'd the deer the princess kill'd, a
pricket.
Nath.
Perge, good master Holofernes, perge; so it
shall please you to abrogate scurrility.
Hol.
I will something affect the letter, for it argues
facility.
The preyful princess3 note pierc'd and prick'd a pretty pleasing pricket;
-- 327 --
Some say, a sore; but not a sore, till now made sore with shooting.
The dogs did yell; put l to sore, then sorel jumps from thicket;
Or pricket sore, or else sorel; the people fall a hooting.
If sore be sore, then l to sore makes fifty sores; O sore l!
Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding but one more l.
Nath.
A rare talent!
Dull.
If a talent be a claw4 note
, 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, nourished in the
womb of pia mater, and delivered upon the mellowing
of occasion. But the gift is good in those in whom5 note 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 tutored by you,
and their daughters profit very greatly under you: you
are a good member of the commonwealth.
Hol.
Mehercle! if their sons be ingenious, 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.
-- 328 --
Enter Jaquenetta and Costard.
Jaq.
God give you good morrow, master person.
Hol.
Master person,—quasi pers-on6 note. An if one
should be pierced, which is the one?
Cost.
Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to
a hogshead.
Hol.
Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit
in a turf of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl
enough for a swine: 'tis pretty; it is well.
Jaq.
Good master parson, be so good as read me
this letter: it was given me by Costard, and sent me
from Don Armado: I beseech you, read it.
Hol.
Fauste, precor gelidâ quando pecus omne sub umbrâ
Ruminat,—and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I
may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice:
—Venegia, Venegia,
Chi non te vede, non te pregia7 note.
Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! Who understandeth
thee not, loves thee not8 note.—Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.—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 forsworn9 note, how shall I swear to love?
-- 329 --
Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed!
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove;
Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like osiers bowed.
Study his bias leaves, and makes his book thine eyes,
Where all those pleasures live, that art would comprehend:
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice.
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire.
Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music, and sweet fire.
Celestial, as thou art, O! pardon, love, this wrong,
That sings heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue!
Hol.
You find not the apostrophes, and so miss the
accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are only
numbers ratified1 note 11Q0220; but, for the elegancy, facility, and
golden cadence of poesy, caret. Ovidius Naso was the
man: and why, indeed, Naso, but for smelling out the
odoriferous flowers of fancy, the jerks of invention?
Imitari is nothing: so doth the hound his master, the
ape his keeper, the 'tired horse his rider. But damosella,
virgin, was this directed to you?
Jaq.
Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Biron, one of the
strange queen's lords2 note.
-- 330 --
Hol.
I will overglance the superscript. “To the
snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady Rosaline.”
I will look again on the intellect of the letter, for the
nomination of the party writing3 note to the person written
unto: “Your ladyship's, in all desired employment, Biron.”
Sir Nathaniel4 note, this Biron is one of the votaries with
the king; and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent
of the stranger queen's, which, accidentally, or by the
way of progression, hath miscarried.—Trip and go, my
sweet: deliver this paper into the royal hand of the
king; it may concern much. Stay not thy compliment;
I forgive thy duty: adieu.
Jaq.
Good Costard, go with me.—Sir, God save your
life!
Cost.
Have with thee, my girl.
[Exeunt Cost. and Jaq.
Nath.
Sir, you have done this in the fear of God,
very religiously; and, as a certain father saith—
Hol.
Sir, tell not me of the father; I do fear colourable
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 before repast5 note it shall please
you to gratify the table with a grace, I will, on my
privilege I have with the parents of the foresaid child
or pupil, undertake your ben venuto; where I will prove
those verses to be very unlearned, neither savouring of
poetry, wit, nor invention. I beseech your society.
-- 331 --
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, [To Dull,] I do invite you too: you shall
not say me nay: pauca verba. Away! the gentles
are at their game, and we will to our recreation.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III. [Notes and Emendations to the 1632 Folio]11Q0221
Another part of the Same.
Enter Biron, with a paper.
Biron.
The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing
myself: they have pitch'd a toil; I am toiling in a
pitch—pitch that defiles. Defile? a foul word. Well,
set thee down, sorrow! 11Q0222 for so, they say, the fool said,
and so say I, and I the fool. Well proved, wit! By
the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax: it kills sheep; it
kills me, I a sheep. Well proved again o' 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 her! yes, for her two eyes. Well, I do nothing
in the world but lie, and lie in my throat. By heaven,
I do love, and it hath taught me to rhyme, and to be
melancholy; and here is part of my rhyme, 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!
[Gets up into a tree6 note
.
-- 332 --
Enter the King, with a paper.
King.
Ay me!
Biron. [Aside.]
Shot, by heaven!—Proceed, sweet
Cupid: thou hast thump'd him with thy bird-bolt under
the left pap.—In faith, secrets!—
King. [Reads.]
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 11Q0223 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 show:
But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep
My tears for glasses, and still make me weep.
O queen of queens, how far dost thou 11Q0224 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?
[Steps aside.
Enter Longaville, with a paper.
[Aside.]
What, Longaville! and reading? listen, ear.
Biron. [Aside.]
Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!
Long.
Ay me! I am forsworn.
Biron. [Aside.]
Why, he comes in like a perjurer, wearing papers7 note.
-- 333 --
King. [Aside.]
In love, I hope8 note. Sweet fellowship in shame!
Biron. [Aside]
One drunkard loves another of the name.
Long.
Am I the first that have been perjur'd so?
Biron. [Aside.]
I could put thee in comfort: not by two that I know.
Thou mak'st the triumviry, the 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. [Aside.]
O! rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose:
Disfigure not his shape 11Q02259 note.
Long.
This same shall go.—
[He reads the sonnet.
Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument,
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love;
Thy grace, being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is:
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine,
-- 334 --
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 paradise10 note?
Biron. [Aside.]
This is the liver vein1 note, which makes flesh a deity;
A green goose, a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way.
Enter Dumaine, with a paper.
Long.
By whom shall I send this?—Company! stay.
[Steps aside.
Biron. [Aside.]
All hid, all hid; an old infant play.
Like a demi-god here sit I in the sky,
And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye.
More sacks to the mill2 note! O heavens! I have my wish:
Dumaine transform'd? four woodcocks in a dish!
Dum.
O most divine Kate!
Biron. [Aside.]
O most profane coxcomb!
Dum.
By heaven, the wonder of a mortal eye!
Biron. [Aside.]
By earth, she is not:—corporal; there you lie 11Q02263 note
.
Dum.
Her amber hairs for foul have amber quoted.
Biron. [Aside.]
An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.
-- 335 --
Dum.
As upright as the cedar.
Biron. [Aside.]
Stoop, I say:
Her shoulder is with child.
Dum.
As fair as day.
Biron. [Aside.]
Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.
Dum.
O, that I had my wish!
Long.
[Aside.
And I had mine!
King. [Aside.]
And I mine too, good lord4 note!
Biron. [Aside.]
Amen, so I had mine. Is not that a good word?
Dum.
I would forget her; but a fever she
Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be.
Biron. [Aside.]
A fever in your blood? why, then incision
Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!
Dum.
Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.
Biron. [Aside.]
Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.
Dum.
On a day, alack the day5 note
!
Love, whose month is ever May6 note,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
-- 336 --
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 thorn7 note:
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 Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop 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. [Advancing.]
Dumaine, thy love is far from charity,
That in love's grief desir'st society:
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so.
King. [Advancing.]
Come, sir, you blush; as his your case is such;
You chide at him, offending twice as much:
You do not love Maria; Longaville
Did never sonnet for her sake compile,
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart.
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your fashion,
-- 337 --
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion:
Ay me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;
One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:
You would for paradise break faith and troth;
[To Long.
And Jove for your love would infringe an oath.
[To Dumaine.
What will Biron say, when that he shall hear
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 hypocrisy.—
[Descends from the tree.
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me:
Good heart! what grace hast thou, thus to reprove
These worms for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no coaches8 note; in your tears
There is no certain princess that appears:
You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing:
Tush! none but minstrels like of sonneting.
But are you not asham'd? nay, are you not,
All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot?
You found his mote; the king your mote did see;
But I a beam do find in each of three.
O! what a scene of foolery have I seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen!
O me! with what strict patience have I sat,
To see a king transformed to a gnat!
To see great Hercules whipping a gig,
And profound Solomon to tune a jig,
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critic Timon laugh at idle toys!
Where lies thy grief? O! tell me, good Dumaine:
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
-- 338 --
And where my liege's? all about the breast:—
A caudle, ho9 note!
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 inconstancy10 note
.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?
Or groan for love1 note? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me? When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb?—
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? 11Q0228
Cost.
Some certain treason.
-- 339 --
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.
Jaq.
I beseech your grace, let this letter be read:
Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said.
King.
Biron, read it over.
[Biron reads the letter.
Where had'st thou it?
Jaq.
Of Costard.
King.
Where had'st 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.
[Picking up the pieces.
Biron.
Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! [To Costard.] you were born to do me shame.—
Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess.
King.
What?
Biron.
That you three fools lack'd 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.
[Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta.
Biron.
Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O! let us embrace.
As true we are, as flesh and blood can be:
The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face2 note;
-- 340 --
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 show some love of thine?
Biron.
Did they? quoth you. Who sees the heavenly Rosaline,
That, like a rude and savage man of Inde,
At the first opening of the gorgeous east,
Bows not his vassal head; and, stricken 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 sovereignty
Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek;
Where several worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wants that want itself doth seek.
Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues,—
Fie, painted rhetoric! 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 hermit, five-score 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 wood divine3 note!
-- 341 --
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.
King.
O paradox! Black is the badge of hell,
The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of night 11Q02294 note;
And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.
Biron.
Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.
O! if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,
It mourns, that painting, and usurping hair5 note,
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 itself 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 wash'd away.
King.
'Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain,
I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day.
Biron.
I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday 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.
-- 342 --
Dum.
O vile! then, as she goes, what upward lies
The street should see, as she walk'd over head.
King.
But what of this? Are we not all in love?
Biron.
O! 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.
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, affection's 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 engenders 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 women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
They are the ground, the books, the Academes,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
Why, universal plodding prisons up6 note
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? 11Q0230
-- 343 --
Learning is but an adjunct to ourself,
And where we are, our learning likewise is:
Then, when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes,
With ourselves,
Do we not likewise see our learning there?
O! 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 tutors7 note have enrich'd you with?
Other slow arts entirely keep the brain,
And therefore, finding barren practisers,
Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil;
But love, first learned in a lady's eyes,
Lives not alone immured in the brain,
But with the motion of all elements
Courses as swift as thought in every power,
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It adds a precious seeing to the eye;
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind;
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound,
When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd:
Love's feeling is more soft, and sensible,
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
Makes heaven drowsy8 note with the harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
-- 344 --
Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs;
O! then his lines would ravish savage ears,
And plant in tyrants mild humility. 11Q0231
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive:
They sparkle still the right Promethean fire;
They are the books, the arts, the Academes,
That show, contain, and nourish all the world,
Else none at all in aught 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 men's sake, the authors of these women,
Or women's sake, by whom we men are men,
Let us once lose our oaths, to find ourselves,
Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths.
It is religion to be thus forsworn;
For charity itself fulfils 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 glozes 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,
Fore-run fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.
King.
Away, away! no time shall be omitted,
-- 345 --
That will be time, and may by us be fitted.
Biron.
Allons! allons9 note!—Sow'd cockle reap'd no corn;
And justice always whirls in equal measure:
Light wenches may prove plagues to men forsworn
If so, our copper buys no better treasure.
[Exeunt.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
Another part of the Same.
Enter Holofernes, Sir Nathaniel, and Dull1 note.
Hol.
Satis quod sufficit.
Nath.
I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at
dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without
scurrility, witty without affection2 note, audacious without
impudency, learned without opinion, and strange
without heresy. 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 gait majestical, and his general behaviour
vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is too picked, too
spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were, too perigrinate,
as I may call it.
Nath.
A most singular and choice epithet.
[Draws out his table-book.
-- 346 --
Hol.
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity
finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such
fanatical phantasms, such insociable and point-devise
companions; such rackers of orthography, as to speak
dout, fine, when he should say, doubt; det, when he
should pronounce, debt—d, e, b, t, not d, e, t: he
clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour vocatur
nebour; neigh abbreviated ne. This is abhominable 11Q02323 note,
(which he would call abominable,) it insinuateth me
of insanie4 note: ne intelligis domine? to make frantic,
lunatic.
Nath.
Laus Deo, bone intelligo.
Hol.
Bone?—bone, for bene: Priscian a little
scratch'd; 'twill serve.
Enter Armado, Moth, and Costard.
Nath.
Videsne quis venit?
Hol.
Video, et gaudeo.
Arm.
Chirrah!
[To Moth.
Hol.
Quare Chirrah, not sirrah?
Arm.
Men of peace, well encounter'd.
Hol.
Most military sir, salutation.
Moth.
They have been at a great feast of languages,
and stolen the scraps.
Cost.
O! they have lived long on the alms-basket of
words5 note. 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 swallowed than a
flap-dragon6 note.
-- 347 --
Moth.
Peace! the peal begins.
Arm.
Monsieur, [To Hol.] 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 third of the five vowels7 note, if you repeat
them; or the fifth, if I.
Hol.
I will repeat them, a, e, i.—
Moth.
The sheep: the other two concludes it; o, u.
Arm.
Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterranean,
a sweet touch, a quick venew of wit8 note! 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
gig.
Moth.
Lend me your horn to make one, and I will
whip about your infamy circum circà. A gig of a
cuckold's horn!
Cost.
An I had but one penny in the world, thou
shouldst have it to buy gingerbread: hold, there is the
very remuneration I had of thy master, thou half-penny
purse of wit, thou pigeon-egg of discretion. O! an the
heavens were so pleased, that thou wert but my bastard,
what a joyful father would'st thou make me. Go to;
thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers' ends, as they say.
Hol.
O! I smell false Latin; dunghill for unguem.
-- 348 --
Arm.
Arts-man, præambula: we will be singled from
the barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the
charge-house9 note on the top of the mountain? 11Q0233
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, chose; sweet and apt, I do assure
you, sir; I do assure.
Arm.
Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my
familiar, I do assure you, very good friend.—For what
is inward between us, let it pass.—I do beseech thee,
remember thy courtesy;—I beseech thee, apparel thy
head:—and among other important10 note 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
-- 349 --
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 Nathaniel1 note, as concerning some entertainment
of time, some show in the posterior of this day, to
be rendered by our assistance,—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, yourself; myself, or this gallant gentleman2 note,
Judas Maccabeus; this swain, (because of his
great limb or joint,) shall pass Pompey the great; the
page, Hercules.
Arm.
Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough
for that worthy's thumb: he is not so big as the end of
his club.
Hol.
Shall I have audience? he shall present Hercules
in minority: his enter and exit shall be strangling
a snake; and I will have an apology for that purpose.
Moth.
An excellent device! so, if any of the audience
hiss, you may cry, “Well done, Hercules! now
thou crushest the snake!” that is the way to make
an offence gracious, though few have the grace to do it.
Arm.
For the rest of the Worthies?—
Hol.
I will play three myself.
Moth.
Thrice-worthy gentleman!
Arm.
Shall I tell you a thing?
Hol.
We attend.
Arm.
We will have, if this fadge not3 note, an antick. I
beseech you, follow.
Hol.
Via!—Goodman Dull, thou hast spoken no word
all this while.
-- 350 --
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 tabor to the Worthies, and let them dance the
hay.
Hol.
Most dull, honest Dull. To our sport, away!
[Exeunt.
SCENE II.
Another part of the Same. Before the Princess's Pavilion.
Enter the Princess, Katharine, Rosaline, and Maria. 11Q0234
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.
Ros.
Madam, came nothing else along with that?
Prin.
Nothing but this? yes; as much love in rhyme,
As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper,
Writ on both sides the leaf, margin and all,
That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.
Ros.
That was the way to make his god-head wax4 note;
For he hath been five thousand years a boy.
Kath.
Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
Ros.
You'll ne'er be friends with him: a' 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 a' been a grandam ere she died;
And so may you, for a light heart lives long.
-- 351 --
Ros.
What's your dark meaning, mouse5 note, of this light word?
Kath.
A light condition in a beauty dark.
Ros.
We need more light to find your meaning out.
Kath.
You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff;
Therefore, I'll darkly end the argument.
Ros.
Look, what you do, you do it still i' the dark.
Kath.
So do not you, for you are a light wench.
Ros.
Indeed, I weigh not you, and therefore light.
Kath.
You weigh me not?—O! that's you care not for me.
Ros.
Great reason; for, past cure is still past care6 note.
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?
Ros.
I would you knew:
An if my face were but as fair as your's,
My favour were as great: be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron.
The numbers true; and, were the numb'ring too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground:
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs.
O! he hath drawn my picture in his letter.
Prin.
Any thing like?
Ros.
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. 11Q0235
Ros.
'Ware pencils! How? let me not die your debtor,
My red dominical, my golden letter:
O, that your face were not so full of O's7 note!
Prin.
A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows8 note!
But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumaine?
-- 352 --
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 hypocrisy,
Vilely 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.
Ros.
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 the week9 note!
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 rhymes,
And shape his service wholly to my behests10 note,
And make him proud to make me proud that jests!
So portent-like would I o'ersway his state 11Q023611 note,
That he should be my fool, and I his fate.
-- 353 --
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.
Ros.
The blood of youth burns not with such excess,
As gravity's revolt to wantonness1 note.
Mar.
Folly in fools bears not so strong a note,
As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote;
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To prove by wit worth in simplicity.
Enter Boyet.
Prin.
Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face2 note.
Boyet.
O! I am stabb'd with laughter3 note. Where's her grace?
Prin.
Thy news, Boyet?
Boyet.
Prepare, madam, prepare!
Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are 11Q0237
Against your peace. Love doth approach disguis'd,
Armed in arguments: you'll be surpris'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,
-- 354 --
And overheard what you shall overhear;
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:”
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 replied, “An angel is not evil;
I should have feared her, had she been a devil.”
With that all laugh'd, and clapp'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 cried, “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, passion's solemn tears. 11Q0238
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 parle, to court, and dance;
And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his several mistress; which they'll know
By favours several which they did bestow.
Prin.
And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd;
For, ladies, we will every one be mask'd,
And not a man of them shall have the grace,
Despite of suit, to see a lady's face.—
Hold Rosaline; this favour thou shalt wear,
-- 355 --
And then the king will court thee for his dear:
Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine,
So shall Biron take me for Rosaline.—
And change you favours, too4 note; so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceiv'd by these removes.
Ros.
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 mockery, merriment5 note;
And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their several counsels they unbosom shall
To loves mistook; and so be mock'd withal,
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With visages display'd, to talk, and greet.
Ros.
But shall we dance, if they desire us to't?
Prin.
No; to the death, we will not move a foot:
Nor to their penn'd speech render we no grace;
But, while 'tis spoke, each turn away her face.
Boyet.
Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart6 note,
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 mock'd, depart away with shame.
[Trumpets sound within
Boyet.
The trumpet sounds: be mask'd, the maskers come.
[The Ladies mask.
-- 356 --
Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumaine, in Russian habits7 note, and masked; Moth, Musicians, and Attendants.
Moth.
“All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!”
Biron.
Beauties no richer than rich taffata8 note.
Moth.
“A holy parcel of the fairest dames,
[The Ladies turn their backs to him.
That ever turn'd their backs to mortal views!”
Biron.
“Their eyes,” villain, “their eyes.”
Moth.
“That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views!
Out—”
Boyet.
True; “out,” indeed.
Moth.
“Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe
Not to behold”—
Biron.
“Once to behold,” rogue.
Moth.
“Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes,
—with your sun-beamed eyes”—
Boyet.
They will not answer to that epithet;
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.
Ros.
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.
Ros.
What would they, say they?
-- 357 --
Boyet.
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
Ros.
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 measure9 note with her on this grass.
Boyet.
They say, that they have measur'd many a mile,
To tread a measure with you on this grass.
Ros.
It is not so: ask them how many inches
Is in one mile? if they have measur'd many,
The measure then of one is easily told.
Boyet.
If, to come hither you have measur'd miles,
And many miles, the princess bids you tell,
How many inches do fill up one mile.
Biron.
Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
Boyet.
She hears herself.
Ros.
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 show the sunshine of your face,
That we, like savages, may worship it.
Ros.
My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
King.
Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do!
Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine
(Those clouds removed) upon our watery eyne.
Ros.
O, vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;
Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water.
King.
Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change1 note
.
-- 358 --
Thou bid'st me beg; this begging is not strange.
Ros.
Play, music, then! nay, you must do it soon.
[Music plays.
Not yet;—no dance:—thus change I like the moon.
King.
Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
Ros.
You took the moon at full, but now she's changed.
King.
Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
The music plays: vouchsafe some motion to it2 note.
Ros.
Our ears vouchsafe it.
King.
But your legs should do it.
Ros.
Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,
We'll not be nice. Take hands:—we will not dance.
King.
Why take we hands then3 note?
Ros.
Only to part friends.—
Court'sy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.
King.
More measure of this measure: be not nice.
Ros.
We can afford no more at such a price.
King.
Prize you yourselves? What buys your company?
Ros.
Your absence only.
King.
That can never be.
Ros.
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.
Ros.
In private then.
King.
I am best pleas'd with that.
[They converse apart.
Biron.
White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
Prin.
Honey, and milk, and sugar: there are three.
-- 359 --
Biron.
Nay then, two treys, (an if you grow so nice)
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey.—Well run, dice!
There's half a dozen sweets.
Prin.
Seventh sweet, adieu.
Since you can cog4 note, 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.
[They converse apart.
Dum.
Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
Mar.
Name it.
Dum.
Fair lady,—
Mar.
Say you so? Fair lord.—
Take that for your fair lady5 note.
Dum.
Please it you,
As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.
[They converse apart.
Kath.
What, was your visor 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 visor half.
Kath.
Veal, quoth the Dutchman.—Is not veal a calf?
Long.
A calf, fair lady?
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 yourself in these sharp mocks.
-- 360 --
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.
[They converse apart.
Boyet.
The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the razor's edge invisible,
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;
Above the sense of sense, so sensible
Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings,
Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.
Ros.
Not one word more, my maids: break off, break off.
Biron.
By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
King.
Farewell, mad wenches: you have simple wits.
[Exeunt King, Lords, Moth, Music, and Attendants.
Prin.
Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovites.—
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?
Boyet.
Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out,
Ros.
Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.
Prin.
O, poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout! 11Q0239
Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night,
Or ever, but in visors, show their faces?
This pert Biron was out of countenance quite.
Ros.
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.
Dumaine was at my service, and his sword:
No point, quoth I: my servant straight 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.
-- 361 --
Prin.
Go, sickness as thou art!
Ros.
Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps6 note.
But will you hear7 note? the king is my love sworn.
Prin.
And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
Kath.
And Longaville was for my service born.
Mar.
Dumaine 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, mask'd, are roses in their bud:
Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown,
Are angels vailing clouds8 note, or roses blown.
Prin.
A vaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo?
Ros.
Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd,
Let's mock them still, as well, known, as disguis'd.
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;
And wonder, what they were, and to what end
Their shallow shows, and prologue vilely penn'd,
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our tent to us.
-- 362 --
Boyet.
Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
Prin.
Whip to our tents, as roes run over land.
[Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria.
Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumaine, in their proper habits.
King.
Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess?
Boyet.
Gone to her tent: please it your majesty,
Command me any service to her thither9 note?
King.
That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
Boyet.
I will; and so will she, I know, my lord.
[Exit.
Biron.
This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeons peas,
And utters it again when God doth please1 note.
He is wit's pedler, and retails his wares
At wakes, and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve:
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve.
A' can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he,
That kiss'd his hand away in courtesy2 note:
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms: nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly; and, in ushering,
Mend him who can: the ladies call him, sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet.
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To show his teeth as white as whales bone3 note;
-- 363 --
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due4 note of honey-tongued Boyet.
King.
A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,
That put Armado's page out of his part!
Enter the Princess, ushered by Boyet; Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, and Attendants.
Biron.
See where it comes!—Behaviour, what wert thou,
Till this man show'd thee5 note? and what art thou now?
King.
All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!
Prin.
Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive.
King.
Construe my speeches better, if you may.
Prin.
Then wish me better: I will give you leave.
King.
We came 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 virtue of your eye must break my oath.
Prin.
You nick-name virtue; vice you should have spoke,
For virtue's office never breaks men's troth.
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unsullied lily, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house's guest;
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity.
-- 364 --
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;
Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state.
Ros.
Madam, speak true.—It is not so, my lord:
My lady (to the manner of the days)
In courtesy gives undeserving praise.
We four, indeed, confronted were with four
In Russian habit: here they stay'd an hour,
And talk'd apace; 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 sweet6 note,
Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,
With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light: your capacity
Is of that nature, that to your huge store
Wise things seem foolish, and rich things but poor.
Ros.
This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye,—
Biron.
I am a fool, and full of poverty.
Ros.
But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
Biron.
O! I am yours, and all that I possess.
Ros.
All the fool mine?
Biron.
I cannot give you less.
Ros.
Which of the visors was it, that you wore?
-- 365 --
Biron.
Where? when? what visor? why demand you this?
Ros.
There, then, that visor; that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and show'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?
Ros.
Help! hold his brows! he'll swoon. Why look you pale?—
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 penn'd,
Nor to the motion of a school-boy's tongue;
Nor never come in visor to my friend;
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song;
Taffata phrases, silken terms precise,
Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affection7 note,
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 express'd
-- 366 --
In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:
And, to begin,—wench, so God help me, la!
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
Ros.
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 us8 note” on those three;
They are infected, in their hearts it lies;
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 do I see.
Prin.
No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
Biron.
Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.
Ros.
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.
Ros.
Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
Biron.
Speak for yourselves: 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.
-- 367 --
King.
Upon mine honour, no.
Prin.
Peace! peace! forbear:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear9 note
.
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?
Ros.
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.
Ros.
By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,
You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.
King.
My faith, and this, the 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 dash it like a Christmas comedy.
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany1 note,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,
That smiles his cheek in years2 note, and knows the trick
-- 368 --
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 the squire3 note,
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 shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there's an eye,
Wounds like a leaden sword.
Boyet.
Full merrily
Hath this brave manage4 note, this career, been run.
Biron.
Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.
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 vara fine,
For every one pursents three.
Biron.
And three times thrice is nine.
Cost.
Not so, sir; under correction, sir, I hope, it is not so.
You cannot beg us5 note, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know:
-- 369 --
I hope, sir, 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 show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine own
part, I am, as they say, but to perfect one man,—e'en
one poor man—Pompion the great, sir.
Biron.
Art thou one of the Worthies?
Cost.
It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pompey
the great1 note: 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.
[Exit Costard.
King.
Biron, they will shame us; let them not approach.
Biron.
We are shame-proof, my lord; and 'tis some policy
To have one show worse than the king's and his company.
King.
I say, they shall not come.
Prin.
Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule you now.
That sport best pleases, that doth least know how2 note:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Die in the zeal of them which it presents,
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth;
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
-- 370 --
Biron.
A right description of our sport, my lord.
Enter Armado.
Arm.
Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy
royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words.
[Armado converses with the King, and delivers a paper to him.
Prin.
Doth this man serve God?
Biron.
Why ask you?
Prin.
A' speaks not like a man of God his making3 note.
Arm.
That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch;
for, I protest, the school-master is exceeding fantastical;
too, too vain; too, too vain: but we will put it,
as they say, to fortuna della guerra. I wish you the
peace of mind, most royal couplement!
[Exit Armado.
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 Maccabeus.
And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,
These four will change habits, and present the other five.
Biron.
There is five in the first show.
King.
You are deceived; 'tis not so.
Biron.
The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest,
the fool, and the boy:—
Abate throw at novum4 note, and the whole world again,
Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.
King.
The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.
-- 371 --
Enter Costard armed, for Pompey.
Cost.
“I Pompey am,—”
Boyet.
You lie, you are not he.
Cost.
“I Pompey am,—”
Boyet.
With libbard's head on knee5 note.
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 halfpenny, Pompey proves the
best Worthy.
Enter Sir Nathaniel armed, 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 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander.”
Boyet.
Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right6 note.
Biron.
Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender-smelling knight.
-- 372 --
Prin.
The conqueror is dismay'd. 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.
Biron.
Pompey the great,—
Cost.
Your servant, and Costard.
Biron.
Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.
Cost.
O! sir, [To Nath.] you have overthrown Alisander
the conqueror. You will be scraped out of the
painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-axe
sitting on a close-stool7 note, will be given to Ajax: he
will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to
speak? run away for shame, Alisander. [Nath. retires.]
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, faith8 note, 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.
Prin.
Stand aside, good Pompey.
Enter Holofernes armed, for Judas, and Moth armed, for Hercules.
Hol.
“Great Hercules is presented by this imp,
Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three-headed canis;
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,”—
-- 373 --
Dum.
A Judas!
Hol.
Not Iscariot, sir.—
“Judas I am, yclep'd Maccabeus.”
Dum.
Judas Maccabeus 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.
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 a 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 brooch.
Dum.
Ay, and in a brooch 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.
An 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.
-- 374 --
Prin.
Alas, poor Maccabeus, how hath he been baited!
Enter Armado armed, for Hector.
Biron.
Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector
in arms.
Dum.
Though my mocks come home by me, I will
now be merry.
King.
Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.
Boyet.
But is this Hector?
King.
I think Hector was not so clean-timber'd.
Long.
His leg is too big for Hector's.
Dum.
More calf, certain.
Boyet.
No; he is best indued in the small.
Biron.
This cannot be Hector.
Dum.
He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces.
Arm.
“The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift,—”
Dum.
A gift nutmeg9 note.
Biron.
A lemon.
Long.
Stuck with cloves.
Dum.
No, cloven.
Arm.
Peace10 note!
“The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea,
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower,—”
Dum.
That mint.
Long.
That columbine.
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 greyhound.
Arm.
The sweet war-man is dead and rotten: sweet
-- 375 --
chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he
breathed, he was a man11 note.—But I will forward with my
device. Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of
hearing.
[Biron whispers Costard. 11Q0240
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,”—
Cost.
The party is gone12 note: fellow Hector, she is gone;
she is two months on her way.
Arm.
What meanest 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 whipp'd for Jaquenetta
that is quick by him, and hang'd for Pompey that is
dead by him.
Dum.
Most rare Pompey!
Boyet.
Renowned Pompey!
Biron.
Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey!
Pompey the huge!
Dum.
Hector trembles.
Biron.
Pompey is moved.—More Ates, more Ates!
stir them on! stir them on!
Dum.
Hector will challenge him.
Biron.
Ay, if a' 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 it by the sword.—I pray you,
let me borrow my arms again.
-- 376 --
Dum.
Room for the incensed Worthies!
Cost.
I'll do it 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.
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 linen; since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none,
but a dish-clout of Jaquenetta's, and that a' wears next
his heart for a favour.
Enter Monsieur Mercade, a Messenger.
Mer.
God save you, madam.
Prin.
Welcome, Mercade,
But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.
Mer.
I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father—
Prin.
Dead, for my life!
Mer.
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 myself 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,
-- 377 --
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 borne ourselves
In the converse of breath, your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue. 11Q0241
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks1 note
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.
King.
The extreme parts of time extremely form
All causes to the purpose of his speed;
And often, at his very loose, decides2 note
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love
The holy suit which fain it would convince3 note;
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 ear of grief;
And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play'd foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents;
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous,—
As love is full of unbefitting strains;
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;
-- 378 --
Form'd by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye,
Full of straying shapes4 note, of habits, and of forms,
Varying in subjects, as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which party-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecome our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both,—fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace. 11Q0242
Prin.
We have receiv'd your letters full of love;
Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy,
As bombast, and as lining to the time5 note.
But more devout than this, in our respects6 note
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
Dum.
Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest.
Long.
So did our looks.
Ros.
We did not quote them so.
King.
Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
-- 379 -- 11Q0243
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 aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about their annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin weeds,
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial, and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And by this virgin palm, now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and, till that instance7 note, 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?
Ros.
You must be purged too, your sins are rank8 note:
You are attaint with faults and perjury;
-- 380 --
Therefore, if you my favour mean to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick9 note.
Dum.
But what to me, my love? but what to me?
Cath.
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?
Cath.
Not so, my lord. A twelvemonth and a day
I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say:
Come when the king doth to my lady come,
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.
Dum.
I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
Cath.
Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn again.
Long.
What says Maria?
Mar.
At the twelvemonth'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 love1 note.
Ros.
Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron,
Before I saw you, and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks;
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,
Which you on all estates will execute, 11Q0244
That lie within the mercy of your wit:
To weed this wormwood from your faithful brain,
And, therewithal, to win me, if you please,
-- 381 --
Without the which I am not to be won,
You shall this twelvemonth term, from day to day,
Visit the speechless sick, and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
Biron.
To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
Ros.
Why, that's the way to choke 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,
Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear groans,
Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
And I will have you, and that fault withal;
But, if they will not, throw away that spirit, 11Q0245
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.
Biron.
A twelvemonth? well, befal what will befal,
I'll jest a twelvemonth 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' courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.
King.
Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth 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.
-- 382 --
Arm.
I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I
am a votary: I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the
plough for her sweet love three years. But, most
esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the
two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl
and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of
our show.
King.
Call them forth quickly; we will do so.
Arm.
Holla! approach.
Enter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Moth, Costard, and others.
This side is Hiems, winter; this Ver, the spring; the
one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo.
Ver, begin.
SONG.
I
Spring.
When daisies pied, and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue2 note,
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he;
Cuckoo,
Cuckoo, cuckoo,—O word of fear!
Unpleasing to a married ear.
II.
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men, for thus sings he;
Cuckoo,
-- 383 --
Cuckoo, cuckoo,—O word of fear!
Unpleasing to a married ear.
III.
Winter.
When icicles 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 nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
To-who3 note,
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot4 note.
IV.
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,
To-who,
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
Arm.
The words of Mercury are harsh after the
songs of Apollo5 note. You, that way: we, this way.
[Exeunt.
