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.
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].
