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.
J. Payne Collier [1842–1844], The works of William Shakespeare. The text formed from an entirely new collation of the old editions: with the various readings, notes, a life of the poet, and a history of the Early English stage. By J. Payne Collier, Esq. F.S.A. In eight volumes (Whittaker & Co. [etc.], London) [word count] [S10101].
