Love’s Labour’s Lost

Contents2021 Feb 22  18:42:15

 
Act 1Scene 1The king of Navarre's park.
Scene 2The same.
 
Act 2Scene 1The same.
 
Act 3Scene 1The same.
 
Act 4Scene 1The same.
Scene 2The same.
Scene 3The same.
 
Act 5Scene 1The same.
Scene 2The same.
 
Finis
 
Contents

ACT I

Scene 1

The king of Navarre's park.

Enter FERDINAND king of Navarre, BEROWNE, LONGAVILLE and DUMAIN
1.1.1 FERDINAND
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,
The endeavor 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, Berowne, Dumain, and Longaville,
Have sworn for three years' term to live with me
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes
That are recorded in this schedule here:
Your oaths are pass'd; and now subscribe your names,
That his own hand may strike his honour down
That violates the smallest branch herein:
If you are arm'd to do as sworn to do,
Subscribe to your deep oaths, and keep it too.
1.1.24 LONGAVILLE
I am resolved; '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 wits.
1.1.28 DUMAIN
My loving lord, Dumain is mortified:
The grosser manner of these world's delights
He throws upon the gross world's baser slaves:
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die;
With all these living in philosophy.
1.1.33 BEROWNE
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!
1.1.49 FERDINAND
Your oath is pass'd to pass away from these.
1.1.50 BEROWNE
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.
1.1.53 LONGAVILLE
You swore to that, Berowne, and to the rest.
1.1.54 BEROWNE
By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in jest.
What is the end of study? let me know.
1.1.56 FERDINAND
Why, that to know, which else we should not know.
1.1.57 BEROWNE
Things hid and barr'd, you mean, from common sense?
1.1.58 FERDINAND
Ay, that is study's godlike recompense.
1.1.59 BEROWNE
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;
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.
1.1.70 FERDINAND
These be the stops that hinder study quite
And train our intellects to vain delight.
1.1.72 BEROWNE
Why, all delights are vain; but that most vain,
Which with pain purchased 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.
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.
1.1.94 FERDINAND
How well he's read, to reason against reading!
1.1.95 DUMAIN
Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding!
1.1.96 LONGAVILLE
He weeds the corn and still lets grow the weeding.
1.1.97 BEROWNE
The spring is near when green geese are a-breeding.
1.1.98 DUMAIN
How follows that?
1.1.99 BEROWNE
Fit in his place and time.
1.1.100 DUMAIN
In reason nothing.
1.1.101 BEROWNE
Something then in rhyme.
1.1.102 FERDINAND
Berowne is like an envious sneaping frost,
That bites the first-born infants of the spring.
1.1.104 BEROWNE
Well, say I am; why should proud summer boast
Before the birds have any cause to sing?
Why should I joy in any abortive birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a rose
Than wish a snow in May's new-fangled mirth;
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.
1.1.112 FERDINAND
Well, sit you out: go home, Berowne: adieu.
1.1.113 BEROWNE
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 swore
And bide the penance of each three years' day.
Give me the paper; let me read the same;
And to the strict'st decrees I'll write my name.
1.1.120 FERDINAND
How well this yielding rescues thee from shame!
1.1.121 BEROWNE
[Reads] 'Item, That no woman shall come within a
mile of my court:' Hath this been proclaimed?
1.1.123 LONGAVILLE
Four days ago.
1.1.124 BEROWNE
Let's see the penalty.
Reads
'On pain of losing her tongue.' Who devised this penalty?
1.1.126 LONGAVILLE
Marry, that did I.
1.1.127 BEROWNE
Sweet lord, and why?
1.1.128 LONGAVILLE
To fright them hence with that dread penalty.
1.1.129 BEROWNE
A dangerous law against gentility!
Reads
'Item, If any man be seen to talk with a woman
within the term of three years, he shall endure such
public shame as the rest of the court can possibly devise.'
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 Aquitaine
To her decrepit, sick and bedrid father:
Therefore this article is made in vain,
Or vainly comes the admired princess hither.
1.1.141 FERDINAND
What say you, lords? Why, this was quite forgot.
1.1.142 BEROWNE
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.
1.1.147 FERDINAND
We must of force dispense with this decree;
She must lie here on mere necessity.
1.1.149 BEROWNE
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;
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:
Suggestions are to other as to me;
But I believe, although I seem so loath,
I am the last that will last keep his oath.
But is there no quick recreation granted?
1.1.162 FERDINAND
Ay, that there is. Our court, you know, is haunted
With a refined traveller of Spain;
A man in all the world's new fashion planted,
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 hight,
For interim to our studies shall relate
In high-born words the worth of many a knight
From tawny Spain lost in the world's debate.
How you delight, my lords, I know not, I;
But, I protest, I love to hear him lie
And I will use him for my minstrelsy.
1.1.177 BEROWNE
Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight.
1.1.179 LONGAVILLE
Costard the swain and he shall be our sport;
And so to study, three years is but short.
Enter DULL with a letter, and COSTARD
1.1.181 DULL
Which is the duke's own person?
1.1.182 BEROWNE
This, fellow: what wouldst?
1.1.183 DULL
I myself reprehend his own person, for I am his
grace's tharborough: but I would see his own person
in flesh and blood.
1.1.186 BEROWNE
This is he.
1.1.187 DULL
Signior Arme – Arme – commends you. There's villany
abroad: this letter will tell you more.
1.1.189 COSTARD
Sir, the contempts thereof are as touching me.
1.1.190 FERDINAND
A letter from the magnificent Armado.
1.1.191 BEROWNE
How low soever the matter, I hope in God for high words.
1.1.192 LONGAVILLE
A high hope for a low heaven: God grant us patience!
1.1.193 BEROWNE
To hear? or forbear laughing?
1.1.194 LONGAVILLE
To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh moderately; or to
forbear both.
1.1.196 BEROWNE
Well, sir, be it as the style shall give us cause to
climb in the merriness.
1.1.198 COSTARD
The matter is to me, sir, as concerning Jaquenetta.
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner.
1.1.200 BEROWNE
In what manner?
1.1.201 COSTARD
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.
1.1.208 BEROWNE
For the following, sir?
1.1.209 COSTARD
As it shall follow in my correction: and God defend
the right!
1.1.211 FERDINAND
Will you hear this letter with attention?
1.1.212 BEROWNE
As we would hear an oracle.
1.1.213 COSTARD
Such is the simplicity of man to hearken after the flesh.
1.1.214 FERDINAND
[Reads] 'Great deputy, the welkin's vicegerent and
sole dominator of Navarre, my soul's earth's god,
and body's fostering patron.'
1.1.217 COSTARD
Not a word of Costard yet.
1.1.218 FERDINAND
[Reads] 'So it is,' –
1.1.219 COSTARD
It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is, in
telling true, but so.
1.1.221 FERDINAND
Peace!
1.1.222 COSTARD
Be to me and every man that dares not fight!
1.1.223 FERDINAND
No words!
1.1.224 COSTARD
Of other men's secrets, I beseech you.
1.1.225 FERDINAND
[Reads] '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 y-cleped thy park. Then
for the place where; where, I mean, I did encounter
that obscene and 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 garden: there did I see that low-spirited
swain, that base minnow of thy mirth,' –
1.1.242 COSTARD
Me?
1.1.243 FERDINAND
[Reads] 'that unlettered small-knowing soul,' –
1.1.244 COSTARD
Me?
1.1.245 FERDINAND
[Reads] 'that shallow vassal,' –
1.1.246 COSTARD
Still me?
1.1.247 FERDINAND
[Reads] 'which, as I remember, hight Costard,' –
1.1.248 COSTARD
O, me!
1.1.249 FERDINAND
[Reads] 'sorted and consorted, contrary to thy
established proclaimed edict and continent canon,
which with, – O, with – but with this I passion to say
wherewith, –
1.1.253 COSTARD
With a wench.
1.1.254 FERDINAND
[Reads] '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, Anthony
Dull; a man of good repute, carriage, bearing, and
estimation.'
1.1.261 DULL
'Me, an't shall please you; I am Anthony Dull.
1.1.262 FERDINAND
[Reads] 'For Jaquenetta, – so is the weaker vessel
called which I apprehended with the aforesaid
swain, – I keep her as a vessel of the law's fury;
and shall, at the least of thy sweet notice, bring
her to trial. Thine, in all compliments of devoted
and heart-burning heat of duty.
Don Adriano de Armado.'
1.1.269 BEROWNE
This is not so well as I looked for, but the best
that ever I heard.
1.1.271 FERDINAND
Ay, the best for the worst. But, sirrah, what say
you to this?
1.1.273 COSTARD
Sir, I confess the wench.
1.1.274 FERDINAND
Did you hear the proclamation?
1.1.275 COSTARD
I do confess much of the hearing it but little of
the marking of it.
1.1.277 FERDINAND
It was proclaimed a year's imprisonment, to be taken
with a wench.
1.1.279 COSTARD
I was taken with none, sir: I was taken with a damsel.
1.1.280 FERDINAND
Well, it was proclaimed 'damsel.'
1.1.281 COSTARD
This was no damsel, neither, sir; she was a virgin.
1.1.282 FERDINAND
It is so varied, too; for it was proclaimed 'virgin.'
1.1.283 COSTARD
If it were, I deny her virginity: I was taken with a maid.
1.1.284 FERDINAND
This maid will not serve your turn, sir.
1.1.285 COSTARD
This maid will serve my turn, sir.
1.1.286 FERDINAND
Sir, I will pronounce your sentence: you shall fast
a week with bran and water.
1.1.288 COSTARD
I had rather pray a month with mutton and porridge.
1.1.289 FERDINAND
And Don Armado shall be your keeper.
My Lord Berowne, see him deliver'd o'er:
And go we, lords, to put in practise that
Which each to other hath so strongly sworn.
Exeunt FERDINAND, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN
1.1.293 BEROWNE
I'll lay my head to any good man's hat,
These oaths and laws will prove an idle scorn.
Sirrah, come on.
1.1.296 COSTARD
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
prosperity! Affliction may one day smile again; and
till then, sit thee down, sorrow!
Exeunt
Contents

ACT I

Scene 2

The same.

Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO and MOTH
1.2.1 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Boy, what sign is it when a man of great spirit
grows melancholy?
1.2.3 MOTH
A great sign, sir, that he will look sad.
1.2.4 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Why, sadness is one and the self-same thing, dear imp.
1.2.5 MOTH
No, no; O Lord, sir, no.
1.2.6 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
How canst thou part sadness and melancholy, my
tender juvenal?
1.2.8 MOTH
By a familiar demonstration of the working, my tough senior.
1.2.9 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Why tough senior? why tough senior?
1.2.10 MOTH
Why tender juvenal? why tender juvenal?
1.2.11 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a congruent epitheton
appertaining to thy young days, which we may
nominate tender.
1.2.14 MOTH
And I, tough senior, as an appertinent title to your
old time, which we may name tough.
1.2.16 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Pretty and apt.
1.2.17 MOTH
How mean you, sir? I pretty, and my saying apt? or
I apt, and my saying pretty?
1.2.19 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Thou pretty, because little.
1.2.20 MOTH
Little pretty, because little. Wherefore apt?
1.2.21 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
And therefore apt, because quick.
1.2.22 MOTH
Speak you this in my praise, master?
1.2.23 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
In thy condign praise.
1.2.24 MOTH
I will praise an eel with the same praise.
1.2.25 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
What, that an eel is ingenious?
1.2.26 MOTH
That an eel is quick.
1.2.27 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I do say thou art quick in answers: thou heatest my blood.
1.2.28 MOTH
I am answered, sir.
1.2.29 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I love not to be crossed.
1.2.30 MOTH
[Aside] He speaks the mere contrary; crosses love not him.
1.2.31 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I have promised to study three years with the duke.
1.2.32 MOTH
You may do it in an hour, sir.
1.2.33 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Impossible.
1.2.34 MOTH
How many is one thrice told?
1.2.35 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I am ill at reckoning; it fitteth the spirit of a tapster.
1.2.36 MOTH
You are a gentleman and a gamester, sir.
1.2.37 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I confess both: they are both the varnish of a
complete man.
1.2.39 MOTH
Then, I am sure, you know how much the gross sum of
deuce-ace amounts to.
1.2.41 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
It doth amount to one more than two.
1.2.42 MOTH
Which the base vulgar do call three.
1.2.43 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
True.
1.2.44 MOTH
Why, sir, is this such a piece of study? Now here
is three studied, ere ye'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 you.
1.2.49 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
A most fine figure!
1.2.50 MOTH
To prove you a cipher.
1.2.51 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
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
outswear Cupid. Comfort, me, boy: what great men
have been in love?
1.2.60 MOTH
Hercules, master.
1.2.61 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Most sweet Hercules! More authority, dear boy, name
more; and, sweet my child, let them be men of good
repute and carriage.
1.2.64 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.
1.2.67 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
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?
1.2.71 MOTH
A woman, master.
1.2.72 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Of what complexion?
1.2.73 MOTH
Of all the four, or the three, or the two, or one of the four.
1.2.74 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Tell me precisely of what complexion.
1.2.75 MOTH
Of the sea-water green, sir.
1.2.76 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Is that one of the four complexions?
1.2.77 MOTH
As I have read, sir; and the best of them too.
1.2.78 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
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.
1.2.81 MOTH
It was so, sir; for she had a green wit.
1.2.82 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
My love is most immaculate white and red.
1.2.83 MOTH
Most maculate thoughts, master, are masked under
such colours.
1.2.85 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Define, define, well-educated infant.
1.2.86 MOTH
My father's wit and my mother's tongue, assist me!
1.2.87 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Sweet invocation of a child; most pretty and
pathetical!
1.2.89 MOTH
If she be made of white and red,
Her faults will ne'er be known,
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred
And fears by pale white shown:
Then if she fear, or be to blame,
By this you shall not know,
For still her cheeks possess the same
Which native she doth owe.
A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason of
white and red.
1.2.99 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Is there not a ballad, boy, of the King and the Beggar?
1.2.100 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.
1.2.104 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
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.
1.2.108 MOTH
[Aside] To be whipped; and yet a better love than
my master.
1.2.110 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Sing, boy; my spirit grows heavy in love.
1.2.111 MOTH
And that's great marvel, loving a light wench.
1.2.112 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I say, sing.
1.2.113 MOTH
Forbear till this company be past.
Enter DULL, COSTARD, and JAQUENETTA
1.2.114 DULL
Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you keep Costard
safe: and you must suffer him to 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-woman. Fare you well.
1.2.119 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I do betray myself with blushing. Maid!
1.2.120 JAQUENETTA
Man?
1.2.121 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I will visit thee at the lodge.
1.2.122 JAQUENETTA
That's hereby.
1.2.123 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I know where it is situate.
1.2.124 JAQUENETTA
Lord, how wise you are!
1.2.125 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I will tell thee wonders.
1.2.126 JAQUENETTA
With that face?
1.2.127 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I love thee.
1.2.128 JAQUENETTA
So I heard you say.
1.2.129 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
And so, farewell.
1.2.130 JAQUENETTA
Fair weather after you!
1.2.131 DULL
Come, Jaquenetta, away!
Exeunt DULL and JAQUENETTA
1.2.132 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Villain, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou
be pardoned.
1.2.134 COSTARD
Well, sir, I hope, when I do it, I shall do it on a
full stomach.
1.2.136 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Thou shalt be heavily punished.
1.2.137 COSTARD
I am more bound to you than your fellows, for they
are but lightly rewarded.
1.2.139 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Take away this villain; shut him up.
1.2.140 MOTH
Come, you transgressing slave; away!
1.2.141 COSTARD
Let me not be pent up, sir: I will fast, being loose.
1.2.142 MOTH
No, sir; that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison.
1.2.143 COSTARD
Well, if ever I do see the merry days of desolation
that I have seen, some shall see.
1.2.145 MOTH
What shall some see?
1.2.146 COSTARD
Nay, nothing, Master Moth, but what they look upon.
It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their
words; and therefore I will say nothing: I thank
God I have as little patience as another man; and
therefore I can be quiet.
Exeunt MOTH and COSTARD
1.2.151 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I do affect the very ground, which is base, where
her shoe, which is baser, guided by her foot, which
is basest, doth tread. I shall be forsworn, which
is a great argument of 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
tempted, 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 turn;
the passado he respects not, the duello he regards
not: his disgrace is to be called boy; but his
glory is to subdue men. Adieu, valour! rust rapier!
be still, drum! for your manager is in love; yea,
he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme,
for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise, wit;
write, pen; for I am for whole volumes in folio.
Exit
Contents

ACT II

Scene 1

The same.

Enter the PRINCESS of France, ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE, BOYET, Lords, and other Attendants
2.1.1 BOYET
Now, madam, summon up your dearest spirits:
Consider who 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 Aquitaine, 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.
2.1.13 PRINCESS
Good Lord Boyet, my beauty, though but mean,
Needs not the painted flourish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by judgement 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 outwear three years,
No woman may approach his silent court:
Therefore to's seemeth it a needful course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf,
Bold of your worthiness, we single you
As our best-moving fair solicitor.
Tell him, the daughter of the King of France,
On serious business, craving quick dispatch,
Importunes personal conference with his grace:
Haste, signify so much; while we attend,
Like humble-visaged suitors, his high will.
2.1.35 BOYET
Proud of employment, willingly I go.
2.1.36 PRINCESS
All pride is willing pride, and yours is so.
Exit BOYET
Who are the votaries, my loving lords,
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke?
2.1.39 First Lord
Lord Longaville is one.
2.1.40 PRINCESS
Know you the man?
2.1.41 MARIA
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'd;
Well fitted in arts, glorious in arms:
Nothing becomes him ill that he would well.
The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss,
If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,
Is a sharp wit matched with too blunt a will;
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will still wills
It should none spare that come within his power.
2.1.53 PRINCESS
Some merry mocking lord, belike; is't so?
2.1.54 MARIA
They say so most that most his humours know.
2.1.55 PRINCESS
Such short-lived wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?
2.1.57 KATHARINE
The young Dumain, a well-accomplished youth,
Of all that virtue love for virtue loved:
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 wit.
I saw him at the Duke Alencon's once;
And much too little of that good I saw
Is my report to his great worthiness.
2.1.65 ROSALINE
Another of these students at that time
Was there with him, if I have heard a truth.
Berowne 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.
2.1.78 PRINCESS
God bless my ladies! are they all in love,
That every one her own hath garnished
With such bedecking ornaments of praise?
2.1.81 First Lord
Here comes Boyet.
Re-enter BOYET
2.1.82 PRINCESS
Now, what admittance, lord?
2.1.83 BOYET
Navarre had notice of your fair approach;
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 house.
Here comes Navarre.
Enter FERDINAND, LONGAVILLE, DUMAIN, BEROWNE, and Attendants
2.1.92 FERDINAND
Fair princess, welcome to the court of Navarre.
2.1.93 PRINCESS
'Fair' I give you back again; and 'welcome' I have
not yet: the roof of this court is too high to be
yours; and welcome to the wide fields too base to be mine.
2.1.96 FERDINAND
You shall be welcome, madam, to my court.
2.1.97 PRINCESS
I will be welcome, then: conduct me thither.
2.1.98 FERDINAND
Hear me, dear lady; I have sworn an oath.
2.1.99 PRINCESS
Our Lady help my lord! he'll be forsworn.
2.1.100 FERDINAND
Not for the world, fair madam, by my will.
2.1.101 PRINCESS
Why, will shall break it; will and nothing else.
2.1.102 FERDINAND
Your ladyship is ignorant what it is.
2.1.103 PRINCESS
Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I hear your grace hath sworn out house-keeping:
Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord,
And sin to break it.
But pardon me. I am too sudden-bold:
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.
2.1.112 FERDINAND
Madam, I will, if suddenly I may.
2.1.113 PRINCESS
You will the sooner, that I were away;
For you'll prove perjured if you make me stay.
2.1.115 BEROWNE
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
2.1.116 ROSALINE
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
2.1.117 BEROWNE
I know you did.
2.1.118 ROSALINE
How needless was it then to ask the question!
2.1.119 BEROWNE
You must not be so quick.
2.1.120 ROSALINE
'Tis 'long of you that spur me with such questions.
2.1.121 BEROWNE
Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 'twill tire.
2.1.122 ROSALINE
Not till it leave the rider in the mire.
2.1.123 BEROWNE
What time o' day?
2.1.124 ROSALINE
The hour that fools should ask.
2.1.125 BEROWNE
Now fair befall your mask!
2.1.126 ROSALINE
Fair fall the face it covers!
2.1.127 BEROWNE
And send you many lovers!
2.1.128 ROSALINE
Amen, so you be none.
2.1.129 BEROWNE
Nay, then will I be gone.
2.1.130 FERDINAND
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,
Received that sum, yet there remains unpaid
A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitaine 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,
We will give up our right in Aquitaine,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid
A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitaine;
Which we much rather had depart withal
And have the money by our father lent
Than Aquitaine 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.
2.1.155 PRINCESS
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.
2.1.159 FERDINAND
I do protest I never heard of it;
And if you prove it, I'll repay it back
Or yield up Aquitaine.
2.1.162 PRINCESS
We arrest your word.
Boyet, you can produce acquittances
For such a sum from special officers
Of Charles his father.
2.1.166 FERDINAND
Satisfy me so.
2.1.167 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.
2.1.170 FERDINAND
It shall suffice me: at which interview
All liberal reason I will yield unto.
Meantime receive such welcome at my hand
As honour without breach of honour may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness:
You may not come, fair princess, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so received
As you shall deem yourself lodged in my heart,
Though so denied fair harbour in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell:
To-morrow shall we visit you again.
2.1.181 PRINCESS
Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace!
2.1.182 FERDINAND
Thy own wish wish I thee in every place!
Exit
2.1.183 BEROWNE
Lady, I will commend you to mine own heart.
2.1.184 ROSALINE
Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it.
2.1.185 BEROWNE
I would you heard it groan.
2.1.186 ROSALINE
Is the fool sick?
2.1.187 BEROWNE
Sick at the heart.
2.1.188 ROSALINE
Alack, let it blood.
2.1.189 BEROWNE
Would that do it good?
2.1.190 ROSALINE
My physic says 'ay.'
2.1.191 BEROWNE
Will you prick't with your eye?
2.1.192 ROSALINE
No point, with my knife.
2.1.193 BEROWNE
Now, God save thy life!
2.1.194 ROSALINE
And yours from long living!
2.1.195 BEROWNE
I cannot stay thanksgiving.
Retiring
2.1.196 DUMAIN
Sir, I pray you, a word: what lady is that same?
2.1.197 BOYET
The heir of Alencon, Katharine her name.
2.1.198 DUMAIN
A gallant lady. Monsieur, fare you well.
Exit
2.1.199 LONGAVILLE
I beseech you a word: what is she in the white?
2.1.200 BOYET
A woman sometimes, an you saw her in the light.
2.1.201 LONGAVILLE
Perchance light in the light. I desire her name.
2.1.202 BOYET
She hath but one for herself; to desire that were a shame.
2.1.203 LONGAVILLE
Pray you, sir, whose daughter?
2.1.204 BOYET
Her mother's, I have heard.
2.1.205 LONGAVILLE
God's blessing on your beard!
2.1.206 BOYET
Good sir, be not offended.
She is an heir of Falconbridge.
2.1.208 LONGAVILLE
Nay, my choler is ended.
She is a most sweet lady.
2.1.210 BOYET
Not unlike, sir, that may be.
Exit LONGAVILLE
2.1.211 BEROWNE
What's her name in the cap?
2.1.212 BOYET
Rosaline, by good hap.
2.1.213 BEROWNE
Is she wedded or no?
2.1.214 BOYET
To her will, sir, or so.
2.1.215 BEROWNE
You are welcome, sir: adieu.
2.1.216 BOYET
Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you.
Exit BEROWNE
2.1.217 MARIA
That last is Berowne, the merry madcap lord:
Not a word with him but a jest.
2.1.219 BOYET
And every jest but a word.
2.1.220 PRINCESS
It was well done of you to take him at his word.
2.1.221 BOYET
I was as willing to grapple as he was to board.
2.1.222 MARIA
Two hot sheeps, marry.
2.1.223 BOYET
And wherefore not ships?
No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your lips.
2.1.225 MARIA
You sheep, and I pasture: shall that finish the jest?
2.1.226 BOYET
So you grant pasture for me.
Offering to kiss her
2.1.227 MARIA
Not so, gentle beast:
My lips are no common, though several they be.
2.1.229 BOYET
Belonging to whom?
2.1.230 MARIA
To my fortunes and me.
2.1.231 PRINCESS
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.
2.1.234 BOYET
If my observation, which very seldom lies,
By the heart's still rhetoric disclosed with eyes,
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected.
2.1.237 PRINCESS
With what?
2.1.238 BOYET
With that which we lovers entitle affected.
2.1.239 PRINCESS
Your reason?
2.1.240 BOYET
Why, all his behaviors did make their retire
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:
His heart, like an agate, with your print impress'd,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride express'd:
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eyesight 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;
Who, tendering their own worth from where they were glass'd,
Did point you to buy them, along as you pass'd:
His face's own margent did quote such amazes
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes.
I'll give you Aquitaine and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
2.1.256 PRINCESS
Come to our pavilion: Boyet is disposed.
2.1.257 BOYET
But to speak that in words which his eye hath
disclosed.
I only have made a mouth of his eye,
By adding a tongue which I know will not lie.
2.1.261 ROSALINE
Thou art an old love-monger and speakest skilfully.
2.1.262 MARIA
He is Cupid's grandfather and learns news of him.
2.1.263 ROSALINE
Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.
2.1.264 BOYET
Do you hear, my mad wenches?
2.1.265 MARIA
No.
2.1.266 BOYET
What then, do you see?
2.1.267 ROSALINE
Ay, our way to be gone.
2.1.268 BOYET
You are too hard for me.
Exeunt
Contents

ACT III

Scene 1

The same.

Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO and MOTH
3.1.1 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.
3.1.2 MOTH
Concolinel.
Singing
3.1.3 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Sweet air! Go, tenderness of years; take this key,
give enlargement to the swain, bring him festinately
hither: I must employ him in a letter to my love.
3.1.6 MOTH
Master, will you win your love with a French brawl?
3.1.7 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
How meanest thou? brawling in French?
3.1.8 MOTH
No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at
the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour
it with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and
sing a note, 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
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
me? – that most are affected to these.
3.1.23 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
How hast thou purchased this experience?
3.1.24 MOTH
By my penny of observation.
3.1.25 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
But O, – but O, –
3.1.26 MOTH
'The hobby-horse is forgot.'
3.1.27 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Callest thou my love 'hobby-horse'?
3.1.28 MOTH
No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your
love perhaps a hackney. But have you forgot your love?
3.1.30 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Almost I had.
3.1.31 MOTH
Negligent student! learn her by heart.
3.1.32 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
By heart and in heart, boy.
3.1.33 MOTH
And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove.
3.1.34 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
What wilt thou prove?
3.1.35 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.
3.1.41 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I am all these three.
3.1.42 MOTH
And three times as much more, and yet nothing at
all.
3.1.44 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Fetch hither the swain: he must carry me a letter.
3.1.45 MOTH
A message well sympathized; a horse to be ambassador
for an ass.
3.1.47 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Ha, ha! what sayest thou?
3.1.48 MOTH
Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse,
for he is very slow-gaited. But I go.
3.1.50 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
The way is but short: away!
3.1.51 MOTH
As swift as lead, sir.
3.1.52 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
The meaning, pretty ingenious?
Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow?
3.1.54 MOTH
Minime, honest master; or rather, master, no.
3.1.55 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I say lead is slow.
3.1.56 MOTH
You are too swift, sir, to say so:
Is that lead slow which is fired from a gun?
3.1.58 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Sweet smoke of rhetoric!
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's he:
I shoot thee at the swain.
3.1.61 MOTH
Thump then and I flee.
Exit
3.1.62 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
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.
My herald is return'd.
Re-enter MOTH with COSTARD
3.1.66 MOTH
A wonder, master! here's a costard broken in a shin.
3.1.67 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Some enigma, some riddle: come, thy l'envoy; begin.
3.1.68 COSTARD
No enigma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve in the
mail, sir: O, sir, plantain, a plain plantain! no
l'envoy, no l'envoy; no salve, sir, but a plantain!
3.1.71 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy silly
thought my spleen; the heaving of my lungs provokes
me to ridiculous smiling. O, pardon me, my stars!
Doth the inconsiderate take salve for l'envoy, and
the word l'envoy for a salve?
3.1.76 MOTH
Do the wise think them other? is not l'envoy a salve?
3.1.77 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse, to make plain
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.
I will example it:
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
There's the moral. Now the l'envoy.
3.1.83 MOTH
I will add the l'envoy. Say the moral again.
3.1.84 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three.
3.1.86 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.
3.1.92 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Until the goose came out of door,
Staying the odds by adding four.
3.1.94 MOTH
A good l'envoy, ending in the goose: would you
desire more?
3.1.96 COSTARD
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.
3.1.100 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Come hither, come hither. How did this argument begin?
3.1.101 MOTH
By saying that a costard was broken in a shin.
Then call'd you for the l'envoy.
3.1.103 COSTARD
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.
3.1.107 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
But tell me; how was there a costard broken in a shin?
3.1.108 MOTH
I will tell you sensibly.
3.1.109 COSTARD
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.
3.1.112 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
We will talk no more of this matter.
3.1.113 COSTARD
Till there be more matter in the shin.
3.1.114 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee.
3.1.115 COSTARD
O, marry me to one Frances: I smell some l'envoy,
some goose, in this.
3.1.117 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
By my sweet soul, I mean setting thee at liberty,
enfreedoming thy person; thou wert immured,
restrained, captivated, bound.
3.1.120 COSTARD
True, true; and now you will be my purgation and let me loose.
3.1.121 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance; and,
in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing but this:
bear this significant
Giving a letter
to the country maid Jaquenetta:
there is remuneration; for the best ward of mine
honour is rewarding my dependents. Moth, follow.
Exit
3.1.127 MOTH
Like the sequel, I. Signior Costard, adieu.
3.1.128 COSTARD
My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my incony Jew!
Exit MOTH
Now will I look to his remuneration. Remuneration!
O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: three
farthings – remuneration. – 'What's the price of this
inkle?' – 'One 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 BEROWNE
3.1.136 BEROWNE
O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met.
3.1.137 COSTARD
Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man
buy for a remuneration?
3.1.139 BEROWNE
What is a remuneration?
3.1.140 COSTARD
Marry, sir, halfpenny farthing.
3.1.141 BEROWNE
Why, then, three-farthing worth of silk.
3.1.142 COSTARD
I thank your worship: God be wi' you!
3.1.143 BEROWNE
Stay, slave; I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.
3.1.146 COSTARD
When would you have it done, sir?
3.1.147 BEROWNE
This afternoon.
3.1.148 COSTARD
Well, I will do it, sir: fare you well.
3.1.149 BEROWNE
Thou knowest not what it is.
3.1.150 COSTARD
I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
3.1.151 BEROWNE
Why, villain, thou must know first.
3.1.152 COSTARD
I will come to your worship to-morrow morning.
3.1.153 BEROWNE
It must be done this afternoon.
Hark, slave, it is but this:
The princess comes to hunt here in the park,
And in her train there is a gentle lady;
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her: ask for her;
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.
Giving him a shilling
3.1.161 COSTARD
Gardon, O sweet gardon! better than remuneration,
a'leven-pence farthing better: most sweet gardon! I
will do it sir, in print. Gardon! Remuneration!
Exit
3.1.164 BEROWNE
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 whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy;
This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid;
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms,
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans,
Liege of all loiterers and malcontents,
Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces,
Sole imperator and great general
Of trotting 'paritors: – O my little heart: –
And I to be a corporal of his field,
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop!
What, I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,
Still a-repairing, ever out of frame,
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right!
Nay, to be perjured, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A wightly wanton with a velvet brow,
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 and groan:
Some men must love my lady and some Joan.
Exit
Contents

ACT IV

Scene 1

The same.

Enter the PRINCESS, and her train, a Forester, BOYET, ROSALINE, MARIA, and KATHARINE
4.1.1 PRINCESS
Was that the king, that spurred his horse so hard
Against the steep uprising of the hill?
4.1.3 BOYET
I know not; but I think it was not he.
4.1.4 PRINCESS
Whoe'er a' was, a' show'd a mounting mind.
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our dispatch:
On Saturday we will return to France.
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush
That we must stand and play the murderer in?
4.1.9 Forester
Hereby, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand where you may make the fairest shoot.
4.1.11 PRINCESS
I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st the fairest shoot.
4.1.13 Forester
Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
4.1.14 PRINCESS
What, what? first praise me and again say no?
O short-lived pride! Not fair? alack for woe!
4.1.16 Forester
Yes, madam, fair.
4.1.17 PRINCESS
Nay, never paint me now:
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true:
Fair payment for foul words is more than due.
4.1.21 Forester
Nothing but fair is that which you inherit.
4.1.22 PRINCESS
See see, my beauty will be saved by merit!
O heresy in fair, fit for these days!
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.
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.
4.1.37 BOYET
Do not curst wives hold that self-sovereignty
Only for praise sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?
4.1.40 PRINCESS
Only for praise: and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.
4.1.42 BOYET
Here comes a member of the commonwealth.
Enter COSTARD
4.1.43 COSTARD
God dig-you-den all! Pray you, which is the head lady?
4.1.44 PRINCESS
Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.
4.1.45 COSTARD
Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
4.1.46 PRINCESS
The thickest and the tallest.
4.1.47 COSTARD
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.
4.1.51 PRINCESS
What's your will, sir? what's your will?
4.1.52 COSTARD
I have a letter from Monsieur Berowne to one Lady Rosaline.
4.1.53 PRINCESS
O, thy letter, thy letter! he's a good friend of mine:
Stand aside, good bearer. Boyet, you can carve;
Break up this capon.
4.1.56 BOYET
I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistook, it importeth none here;
It is writ to Jaquenetta.
4.1.59 PRINCESS
We will read it, I swear.
Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear.
Reads
4.1.61 BOYET
'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
Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say,
Veni, vidi, vici; which to annothanize in the
vulgar, – O base and obscure vulgar! – videlicet, He
came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw two;
overcame, three. Who came? the king: why did he
come? to see: why did he see? to overcome: to
whom came he? to the beggar: what saw he? the
beggar: who overcame he? the beggar. The
conclusion is victory: on whose side? the king's.
The captive is 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 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 den.
4.1.96 PRINCESS
What plume of feathers is he that indited this letter?
What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?
4.1.98 BOYET
I am much deceived but I remember the style.
4.1.99 PRINCESS
Else your memory is bad, going o'er it erewhile.
4.1.100 BOYET
This Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps here in court;
A phantasime, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the prince and his bookmates.
4.1.103 PRINCESS
Thou fellow, a word:
Who gave thee this letter?
4.1.105 COSTARD
I told you; my lord.
4.1.106 PRINCESS
To whom shouldst thou give it?
4.1.107 COSTARD
From my lord to my lady.
4.1.108 PRINCESS
From which lord to which lady?
4.1.109 COSTARD
From my lord Berowne, a good master of mine,
To a lady of France that he call'd Rosaline.
4.1.111 PRINCESS
Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come, lords, away.
To ROSALINE
Here, sweet, put up this: 'twill be thine another day.
Exeunt PRINCESS and train
4.1.113 BOYET
Who is the suitor? who is the suitor?
4.1.114 ROSALINE
Shall I teach you to know?
4.1.115 BOYET
Ay, my continent of beauty.
4.1.116 ROSALINE
Why, she that bears the bow.
Finely put off!
4.1.118 BOYET
My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou marry,
Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.
Finely put on!
4.1.121 ROSALINE
Well, then, I am the shooter.
4.1.122 BOYET
And who is your deer?
4.1.123 ROSALINE
If we choose by the horns, yourself come not near.
Finely put on, indeed!
4.1.125 MARIA
You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes
at the brow.
4.1.127 BOYET
But she herself is hit lower: have I hit her now?
4.1.128 ROSALINE
Shall I come upon thee with an old saying, that was
a man when King Pepin of France was a little boy, as
touching the hit it?
4.1.131 BOYET
So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a
woman when Queen Guinover of Britain was a little
wench, as touching the hit it.
4.1.134 ROSALINE
Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it, my good man.
4.1.136 BOYET
An I cannot, cannot, cannot,
An I cannot, another can.
Exeunt ROSALINE and KATHARINE
4.1.138 COSTARD
By my troth, most pleasant: how both did fit it!
4.1.139 MARIA
A mark marvellous well shot, for they both did hit it.
4.1.140 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.
4.1.142 MARIA
Wide o' the bow hand! i' faith, your hand is out.
4.1.143 COSTARD
Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.
4.1.144 BOYET
An if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.
4.1.145 COSTARD
Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the pin.
4.1.146 MARIA
Come, come, you talk greasily; your lips grow foul.
4.1.147 COSTARD
She's too hard for you at pricks, sir: challenge her to bowl.
4.1.148 BOYET
I fear too much rubbing. Good night, my good owl.
Exeunt BOYET and MARIA
4.1.149 COSTARD
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' th' one side, – 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!
Sola, sola!
Shout within
Exit COSTARD, running
Contents

ACT IV

Scene 2

The same.

Enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, and DULL
4.2.1 SIR NATHANIEL
Very reverend sport, truly; and done in the testimony
of a good conscience.
4.2.3 HOLOFERNES
The deer was, as you know, sanguis, in blood; ripe
as the pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel in
the ear of caelo, the sky, the welkin, the heaven;
and anon falleth like a crab on the face of terra,
the soil, the land, the earth.
4.2.8 SIR NATHANIEL
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.
4.2.11 HOLOFERNES
Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
4.2.12 DULL
'Twas not a haud credo; 'twas a pricket.
4.2.13 HOLOFERNES
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.
4.2.21 DULL
I said the deer was not a haud credo; twas a pricket.
4.2.22 HOLOFERNES
Twice-sod simplicity, his coctus!
O thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!
4.2.24 SIR NATHANIEL
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 he.
For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet, or a fool,
So were there a patch set on learning, to see him in a school:
But omne bene, say I; being of an old father's mind,
Many can brook the weather that love not the wind.
4.2.37 DULL
You two are book-men: can you tell me by your wit
What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's not five
weeks old as yet?
4.2.40 HOLOFERNES
Dictynna, goodman Dull; Dictynna, goodman Dull.
4.2.41 DULL
What is Dictynna?
4.2.42 SIR NATHANIEL
A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the moon.
4.2.43 HOLOFERNES
The moon was a month old when Adam was no more,
And raught not to five weeks when he came to
five-score.
The allusion holds in the exchange.
4.2.47 DULL
'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange.
4.2.48 HOLOFERNES
God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds
in the exchange.
4.2.50 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 killed.
4.2.53 HOLOFERNES
Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an extemporal epitaph
on the death of the deer? And, to humour the
ignorant, call I the deer the princess killed a pricket.
4.2.56 SIR NATHANIEL
Perge, good Master Holofernes, perge; so it shall
please you to abrogate scurrility.
4.2.58 HOLOFERNES
I will something affect the letter, for it argues facility.
The preyful princess pierced and prick'd a pretty
pleasing pricket;
Some say a sore; but not a sore, till now made
sore with shooting.
The dogs did yell: put L to sore, then sorel 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
one sorel.
Of one sore I an hundred make by adding but one more L.
4.2.69 SIR NATHANIEL
A rare talent!
4.2.70 DULL
[Aside] If a talent be a claw, look how he claws
him with a talent.
4.2.72 HOLOFERNES
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 whom it is acute, and I am
thankful for it.
4.2.80 SIR NATHANIEL
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.
4.2.84 HOLOFERNES
Mehercle, if their sons be ingenuous, they shall
want no instruction; if their daughters be capable,
I will put it to them: but vir sapit qui pauca
loquitur; a soul feminine saluteth us.
Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD
4.2.88 JAQUENETTA
God give you good morrow, master Parson.
4.2.89 HOLOFERNES
Master Parson, quasi pers-on. An if one should be
pierced, which is the one?
4.2.91 COSTARD
Marry, master schoolmaster, he that is likest to a hogshead.
4.2.92 HOLOFERNES
Piercing a hogshead! a good lustre of conceit in a
tuft of earth; fire enough for a flint, pearl enough
for a swine: 'tis pretty; it is well.
4.2.95 JAQUENETTA
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.
4.2.98 HOLOFERNES
Fauste, precor gelida quando pecus omne sub umbra
Ruminat, – and so forth. Ah, good old Mantuan! I
may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Venice;
Venetia, Venetia,
Chi non ti vede non ti pretia.
Old Mantuan, old Mantuan! who understandeth thee
not, loves thee not. Ut, re, sol, la, mi, fa.
Under pardon, sir, what are the contents? or rather,
as Horace says in his – What, my soul, verses?
4.2.107 SIR NATHANIEL
Ay, sir, and very learned.
4.2.108 HOLOFERNES
Let me hear a staff, a stanze, a verse; lege, domine.
4.2.109 SIR NATHANIEL
[Reads]
If love make me forsworn, how shall I swear to love?
Ah, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vow'd!
Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll faithful prove:
Those thoughts to me were oaks, to thee like
osiers bow'd.
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.
4.2.126 HOLOFERNES
You find not the apostraphas, and so miss the
accent: let me supervise the canzonet. Here are
only numbers ratified; 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 odouriferous 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?
4.2.136 JAQUENETTA
Ay, sir, from one Monsieur Berowne, one of the strange
queen's lords.
4.2.138 HOLOFERNES
I will overglance the superscript: 'To the
snow-white hand of the most beauteous Lady
Rosaline.' I will look again on the intellect of
the letter, for the nomination of the party writing
to the person written unto: 'Your ladyship's in all
desired employment, BEROWNE.' Sir Nathaniel, this
Berowne 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.
4.2.151 JAQUENETTA
Good Costard, go with me. Sir, God save your life!
4.2.152 COSTARD
Have with thee, my girl.
Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA
4.2.153 SIR NATHANIEL
Sir, you have done this in the fear of God, very
religiously; and, as a certain father saith, –
4.2.155 HOLOFERNES
Sir tell me not of the father; I do fear colourable
colours. But to return to the verses: did they
please you, Sir Nathaniel?
4.2.158 SIR NATHANIEL
Marvellous well for the pen.
4.2.159 HOLOFERNES
I do dine to-day at the father's of a certain pupil
of mine; where, if, before repast, 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.
4.2.167 SIR NATHANIEL
And thank you too; for society, saith the text, is
the happiness of life.
4.2.169 HOLOFERNES
And, certes, the text most infallibly concludes it.
To DULL
Sir, I do invite you too; you shall not
say me nay: pauca verba. Away! the gentles are at
their game, and we will to our recreation.
Exeunt
Contents

ACT IV

Scene 3

The same.

Enter BEROWNE, with a paper
4.3.1 BEROWNE
The king he is hunting the deer; I am coursing
myself: they have pitched a toil; I am toiling in
a pitch, – pitch that defiles: defile! a foul
word. Well, set thee down, sorrow! for so they say
the fool said, and so say I, and I the fool: well
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!
Stands aside
Enter FERDINAND, with a paper
4.3.21 FERDINAND
Ay me!
4.3.22 BEROWNE
[Aside] Shot, by heaven! Proceed, sweet Cupid:
thou hast thumped him with thy bird-bolt under the
left pap. In faith, secrets!
4.3.25 FERDINAND
[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 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 shinest 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 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
What, Longaville! and reading! listen, ear.
4.3.45 BEROWNE
Now, in thy likeness, one more fool appear!
Enter LONGAVILLE, with a paper
4.3.46 LONGAVILLE
Ay me, I am forsworn!
4.3.47 BEROWNE
Why, he comes in like a perjure, wearing papers.
4.3.48 FERDINAND
In love, I hope: sweet fellowship in shame!
4.3.49 BEROWNE
One drunkard loves another of the name.
4.3.50 LONGAVILLE
Am I the first that have been perjured so?
4.3.51 BEROWNE
I could put thee in comfort. Not by two that I know:
Thou makest the triumviry, the corner-cap of society,
The shape of Love's Tyburn that hangs up simplicity.
4.3.54 LONGAVILLE
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.
4.3.57 BEROWNE
O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose:
Disfigure not his slop.
4.3.59 LONGAVILLE
This same shall go.
Reads
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,
Exhalest this vapour-vow; in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To lose an oath to win a paradise?
4.3.74 BEROWNE
This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity,
A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry.
God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way.
4.3.77 LONGAVILLE
By whom shall I send this? – Company! stay.
Steps aside
4.3.78 BEROWNE
All hid, all hid; an old infant play.
Like a demigod here sit I in the sky.
And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'ereye.
More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish!
Enter DUMAIN, with a paper
Dumain transform'd! four woodcocks in a dish!
4.3.83 DUMAIN
O most divine Kate!
4.3.84 BEROWNE
O most profane coxcomb!
4.3.85 DUMAIN
By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye!
4.3.86 BEROWNE
By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie.
4.3.87 DUMAIN
Her amber hair for foul hath amber quoted.
4.3.88 BEROWNE
An amber-colour'd raven was well noted.
4.3.89 DUMAIN
As upright as the cedar.
4.3.90 BEROWNE
Stoop, I say;
Her shoulder is with child.
4.3.92 DUMAIN
As fair as day.
4.3.93 BEROWNE
Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine.
4.3.94 DUMAIN
O that I had my wish!
4.3.95 LONGAVILLE
And I had mine!
4.3.96 FERDINAND
And I mine too, good Lord!
4.3.97 BEROWNE
Amen, so I had mine: is not that a good word?
4.3.98 DUMAIN
I would forget her; but a fever she
Reigns in my blood and will remember'd be.
4.3.100 BEROWNE
A fever in your blood! why, then incision
Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!
4.3.102 DUMAIN
Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.
4.3.103 BEROWNE
Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit.
4.3.104 DUMAIN
[Reads]
On a day – alack the day! –
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind,
All unseen, can passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But, alack, my hand is sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn;
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet,
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet!
Do not call it sin in me,
That I am forsworn for thee;
Thou for whom Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiope were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.
This will I send, and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love's fasting pain.
O, would the king, Berowne, and Longaville,
Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a perjured note;
For none offend where all alike do dote.
4.3.131 LONGAVILLE
[Advancing] Dumain, 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.
4.3.135 FERDINAND
[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, observed your fashion,
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:
To LONGAVILLE
You would for paradise break faith, and troth;
To DUMAIN
And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.
What will Berowne say when that he shall hear
Faith so 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.
4.3.155 BEROWNE
Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.
Advancing
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 coaches; in your tears
There is no certain princess that appears;
You'll not be perjured, 'tis a hateful thing;
Tush, none but minstrels like of sonneting!
But are you not ashamed? 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 Dumain?
And gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege's? all about the breast:
A caudle, ho!
4.3.179 FERDINAND
Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?
4.3.181 BEROWNE
Not you to me, but I betray'd by 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 inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rhyme?
Or groan for love? 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?
4.3.192 FERDINAND
Soft! whither away so fast?
A true man or a thief that gallops so?
4.3.194 BEROWNE
I post from love: good lover, let me go.
Enter JAQUENETTA and COSTARD
4.3.195 JAQUENETTA
God bless the king!
4.3.196 FERDINAND
What present hast thou there?
4.3.197 COSTARD
Some certain treason.
4.3.198 FERDINAND
What makes treason here?
4.3.199 COSTARD
Nay, it makes nothing, sir.
4.3.200 FERDINAND
If it mar nothing neither,
The treason and you go in peace away together.
4.3.202 JAQUENETTA
I beseech your grace, let this letter be read:
Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said.
4.3.204 FERDINAND
Berowne, read it over.
Giving him the paper
Where hadst thou it?
4.3.206 JAQUENETTA
Of Costard.
4.3.207 FERDINAND
Where hadst thou it?
4.3.208 COSTARD
Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
BEROWNE tears the letter
4.3.209 FERDINAND
How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it?
4.3.210 BEROWNE
A toy, my liege, a toy: your grace needs not fear it.
4.3.211 LONGAVILLE
It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.
4.3.212 DUMAIN
It is Berowne's writing, and here is his name.
Gathering up the pieces
4.3.213 BEROWNE
[To COSTARD] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead! you were
born to do me shame.
Guilty, my lord, guilty! I confess, I confess.
4.3.216 FERDINAND
What?
4.3.217 BEROWNE
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.
4.3.221 DUMAIN
Now the number is even.
4.3.222 BEROWNE
True, true; we are four.
Will these turtles be gone?
4.3.224 FERDINAND
Hence, sirs; away!
4.3.225 COSTARD
Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors stay.
Exeunt COSTARD and JAQUENETTA
4.3.226 BEROWNE
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 face;
Young blood doth not obey an old decree:
We cannot cross the cause why we were born;
Therefore of all hands must we be forsworn.
4.3.232 FERDINAND
What, did these rent lines show some love of thine?
4.3.233 BEROWNE
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 strucken blind
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast?
What peremptory eagle-sighted eye
Dares look upon the heaven of her brow,
That is not blinded by her majesty?
4.3.241 FERDINAND
What zeal, what fury hath inspired thee now?
My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon;
She an attending star, scarce seen a light.
4.3.244 BEROWNE
My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne:
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.
4.3.259 FERDINAND
By heaven, thy love is black as ebony.
4.3.260 BEROWNE
Is ebony like her? O wood divine!
A wife of such wood were felicity.
O, who can give an oath? where is a book?
That I may swear beauty doth beauty lack,
If that she learn not of her eye to look:
No face is fair that is not full so black.
4.3.266 FERDINAND
O paradox! Black is the badge of hell,
The hue of dungeons and the suit of night;
And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well.
4.3.269 BEROWNE
Devils soonest tempt, resembling spirits of light.
O, if in black my lady's brows be deck'd,
It mourns that painting and usurping hair
Should ravish doters with a false aspect;
And therefore is she born to make black fair.
Her favour turns the fashion of the days,
For native blood is counted painting now;
And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise,
Paints itself black, to imitate her brow.
4.3.278 DUMAIN
To look like her are chimney-sweepers black.
4.3.279 LONGAVILLE
And since her time are colliers counted bright.
4.3.280 FERDINAND
And Ethiopes of their sweet complexion crack.
4.3.281 DUMAIN
Dark needs no candles now, for dark is light.
4.3.282 BEROWNE
Your mistresses dare never come in rain,
For fear their colours should be wash'd away.
4.3.284 FERDINAND
'Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to tell you plain,
I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day.
4.3.286 BEROWNE
I'll prove her fair, or talk till doomsday here.
4.3.287 FERDINAND
No devil will fright thee then so much as she.
4.3.288 DUMAIN
I never knew man hold vile stuff so dear.
4.3.289 LONGAVILLE
Look, here's thy love: my foot and her face see.
4.3.290 BEROWNE
O, if the streets were paved with thine eyes,
Her feet were much too dainty for such tread!
4.3.292 DUMAIN
O, vile! then, as she goes, what upward lies
The street should see as she walk'd overhead.
4.3.294 FERDINAND
But what of this? are we not all in love?
4.3.295 BEROWNE
Nothing so sure; and thereby all forsworn.
4.3.296 FERDINAND
Then leave this chat; and, good Berowne, now prove
Our loving lawful, and our faith not torn.
4.3.298 DUMAIN
Ay, marry, there; some flattery for this evil.
4.3.299 LONGAVILLE
O, some authority how to proceed;
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheat the devil.
4.3.301 DUMAIN
Some salve for perjury.
4.3.302 BEROWNE
'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 have 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 poisons up
The nimble spirits in the arteries,
As motion and long-during action tires
The sinewy vigour of the traveller.
Now, for not looking on a woman's face,
You have in that forsworn the use of eyes
And study too, the causer of your vow;
For where is any author in the world
Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye?
Learning is but an adjunct to ourself
And where we are our learning likewise is:
Then when ourselves we see in ladies' eyes,
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 tutors 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 cockl'd 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 drowsy with the harmony.
Never durst poet touch a pen to write
Until his ink were temper'd with Love's sighs;
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears
And plant in tyrants mild humility.
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 ought proves excellent.
Then fools you were these women to forswear,
Or keeping what is sworn, you will prove fools.
For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love,
Or for love's sake, a word that loves all men,
Or for 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 fulfills the law,
And who can sever love from charity?
4.3.379 FERDINAND
Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to the field!
4.3.380 BEROWNE
Advance your standards, and upon them, lords;
Pell-mell, down with them! but be first advised,
In conflict that you get the sun of them.
4.3.383 LONGAVILLE
Now to plain-dealing; lay these glozes by:
Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France?
4.3.385 FERDINAND
And win them too: therefore let us devise
Some entertainment for them in their tents.
4.3.387 BEROWNE
First, from the park let us conduct them thither;
Then homeward every man attach the hand
Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon
We will with some strange pastime solace them,
Such as the shortness of the time can shape;
For revels, dances, masks and merry hours
Forerun fair Love, strewing her way with flowers.
4.3.394 FERDINAND
Away, away! no time shall be omitted
That will betime, and may by us be fitted.
4.3.396 BEROWNE
Allons! allons! 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
Contents

ACT V

Scene 1

The same.

Enter HOLOFERNES, SIR NATHANIEL, and DULL
5.1.1 HOLOFERNES
Satis quod sufficit.
5.1.2 SIR NATHANIEL
I praise God for you, sir: your reasons at dinner
have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without
scurrility, witty without affection, audacious without
impudency, learned without opinion, and strange with-
out heresy. I did converse this quondam day with
a companion of the king's, who is intituled, nomi-
nated, or called, Don Adriano de Armado.
5.1.9 HOLOFERNES
Novi hominem tanquam te: his humour is lofty, his
discourse peremptory, his tongue filed, his eye
ambitious, his gait majestical, and his general
behavior vain, ridiculous, and thrasonical. He is
too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it
were, too peregrinate, as I may call it.
5.1.15 SIR NATHANIEL
A most singular and choice epithet.
Draws out his table-book
5.1.16 HOLOFERNES
He draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer
than the staple of his argument. I abhor such
fanatical phantasimes, 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 nebor; neigh
abbreviated ne. This is abhominable, – which he
would call abbominable: it insinuateth me of
insanie: anne intelligis, domine? to make frantic, lunatic.
5.1.27 SIR NATHANIEL
Laus Deo, bene intelligo.
5.1.28 HOLOFERNES
Bon, bon, fort bon, Priscian! a little scratch'd,
'twill serve.
5.1.30 SIR NATHANIEL
Videsne quis venit?
5.1.31 HOLOFERNES
Video, et gaudeo.
Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, MOTH, and COSTARD
5.1.32 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Chirrah!
To MOTH
5.1.33 HOLOFERNES
Quare chirrah, not sirrah?
5.1.34 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Men of peace, well encountered.
5.1.35 HOLOFERNES
Most military sir, salutation.
5.1.36 MOTH
[Aside to COSTARD] They have been at a great feast
of languages, and stolen the scraps.
5.1.38 COSTARD
O, they have lived long on the alms-basket of words.
I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a word;
for thou art not so long by the head as
honorificabilitudinitatibus: thou art easier
swallowed than a flap-dragon.
5.1.43 MOTH
Peace! the peal begins.
5.1.44 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
[To HOLOFERNES] Monsieur, are you not lettered?
5.1.45 MOTH
Yes, yes; he teaches boys the hornbook. What is a,
b, spelt backward, with the horn on his head?
5.1.47 HOLOFERNES
Ba, pueritia, with a horn added.
5.1.48 MOTH
Ba, most silly sheep with a horn. You hear his learning.
5.1.49 HOLOFERNES
Quis, quis, thou consonant?
5.1.50 MOTH
The third of the five vowels, if you repeat them; or
the fifth, if I.
5.1.52 HOLOFERNES
I will repeat them, – a, e, i, –
5.1.53 MOTH
The sheep: the other two concludes it, – o, u.
5.1.54 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Now, by the salt wave of the Mediterraneum, a sweet
touch, a quick venue of wit! snip, snap, quick and
home! it rejoiceth my intellect: true wit!
5.1.57 MOTH
Offered by a child to an old man; which is wit-old.
5.1.58 HOLOFERNES
What is the figure? what is the figure?
5.1.59 MOTH
Horns.
5.1.60 HOLOFERNES
Thou disputest like an infant: go, whip thy gig.
5.1.61 MOTH
Lend me your horn to make one, and I will whip about
your infamy circum circa, – a gig of a cuckold's horn.
5.1.63 COSTARD
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 halfpenny
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 wouldst thou make me!
Go to; thou hast it ad dunghill, at the fingers'
ends, as they say.
5.1.71 HOLOFERNES
O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for unguem.
5.1.72 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Arts-man, preambulate, we will be singled from the
barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the
charge-house on the top of the mountain?
5.1.75 HOLOFERNES
Or mons, the hill.
5.1.76 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
At your sweet pleasure, for the mountain.
5.1.77 HOLOFERNES
I do, sans question.
5.1.78 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
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.
5.1.82 HOLOFERNES
The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is
liable, congruent and measurable for the afternoon:
the word is well culled, chose, sweet and apt, I do
assure you, sir, I do assure.
5.1.86 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Sir, the king is a noble gentleman, and my familiar,
I do assure ye, 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 important 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
antique, or firework. Now, understanding that the
curate and your sweet self are good at such
eruptions and sudden breaking out of mirth, as it
were, I have acquainted you withal, to the end to
crave your assistance.
5.1.109 HOLOFERNES
Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies.
Sir, as concerning some entertainment of time, some
show in the posterior of this day, to be rendered by
our assistants, at the king's command, and this most
gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman, before
the princess; I say none so fit as to present the
Nine Worthies.
5.1.116 SIR NATHANIEL
Where will you find men worthy enough to present them?
5.1.117 HOLOFERNES
Joshua, yourself; myself and this gallant gentleman,
Judas Maccabaeus; this swain, because of his great
limb or joint, shall pass Pompey the Great; the
page, Hercules, –
5.1.121 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Pardon, sir; error: he is not quantity enough for
that Worthy's thumb: he is not so big as the end of his club.
5.1.123 HOLOFERNES
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.
5.1.126 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.
5.1.130 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
For the rest of the Worthies? –
5.1.131 HOLOFERNES
I will play three myself.
5.1.132 MOTH
Thrice-worthy gentleman!
5.1.133 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Shall I tell you a thing?
5.1.134 HOLOFERNES
We attend.
5.1.135 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
We will have, if this fadge not, an antique. I
beseech you, follow.
5.1.137 HOLOFERNES
Via, goodman Dull! thou hast spoken no word all this while.
5.1.138 DULL
Nor understood none neither, sir.
5.1.139 HOLOFERNES
Allons! we will employ thee.
5.1.140 DULL
I'll make one in a dance, or so; or I will play
On the tabour to the Worthies, and let them dance the hay.
5.1.142 HOLOFERNES
Most dull, honest Dull! To our sport, away!
Exeunt
Contents

ACT V

Scene 2

The same.

Enter the PRINCESS, KATHARINE, ROSALINE, and MARIA
5.2.1 PRINCESS
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.
5.2.5 ROSALINE
Madame, came nothing else along with that?
5.2.6 PRINCESS
Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme
As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper,
Writ o' both sides the leaf, margent and all,
That he was fain to seal on Cupid's name.
5.2.10 ROSALINE
That was the way to make his godhead wax,
For he hath been five thousand years a boy.
5.2.12 KATHARINE
Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
5.2.13 ROSALINE
You'll ne'er be friends with him; a' kill'd your sister.
5.2.14 KATHARINE
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 ha' been a grandam ere she died:
And so may you; for a light heart lives long.
5.2.19 ROSALINE
What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?
5.2.20 KATHARINE
A light condition in a beauty dark.
5.2.21 ROSALINE
We need more light to find your meaning out.
5.2.22 KATHARINE
You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff;
Therefore I'll darkly end the argument.
5.2.24 ROSALINE
Look what you do, you do it still i' the dark.
5.2.25 KATHARINE
So do not you, for you are a light wench.
5.2.26 ROSALINE
Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.
5.2.27 KATHARINE
You weigh me not? O, that's you care not for me.
5.2.28 ROSALINE
Great reason; for 'past cure is still past care.'
5.2.29 PRINCESS
Well bandied both; a set of wit well play'd.
But Rosaline, you have a favour too:
Who sent it? and what is it?
5.2.32 ROSALINE
I would you knew:
An if my face were but as fair as yours,
My favour were as great; be witness this.
Nay, I have verses too, I thank Berowne:
The numbers true; and, were the numbering too,
I were the fairest goddess on the ground:
I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!
5.2.40 PRINCESS
Any thing like?
5.2.41 ROSALINE
Much in the letters; nothing in the praise.
5.2.42 PRINCESS
Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.
5.2.43 KATHARINE
Fair as a text B in a copy-book.
5.2.44 ROSALINE
'Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor,
My red dominical, my golden letter:
O, that your face were not so full of O's!
5.2.47 KATHARINE
A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.
5.2.48 PRINCESS
But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?
5.2.49 KATHARINE
Madam, this glove.
5.2.50 PRINCESS
Did he not send you twain?
5.2.51 KATHARINE
Yes, madam, and moreover
Some thousand verses of a faithful lover,
A huge translation of hypocrisy,
Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.
5.2.55 MARIA
This and these pearls to me sent Longaville:
The letter is too long by half a mile.
5.2.57 PRINCESS
I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart
The chain were longer and the letter short?
5.2.59 MARIA
Ay, or I would these hands might never part.
5.2.60 PRINCESS
We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.
5.2.61 ROSALINE
They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne I'll torture ere I go:
O that I knew he were but in by the week!
How I would make him fawn and beg and seek
And wait the season and observe the times
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes
And shape his service wholly to my hests
And make him proud to make me proud that jests!
So perttaunt-like would I o'ersway his state
That he should be my fool and I his fate.
5.2.71 PRINCESS
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.
5.2.75 ROSALINE
The blood of youth burns not with such excess
As gravity's revolt to wantonness.
5.2.77 MARIA
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.
5.2.81 PRINCESS
Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
Enter BOYET
5.2.82 BOYET
O, I am stabb'd with laughter! Where's her grace?
5.2.83 PRINCESS
Thy news Boyet?
5.2.84 BOYET
Prepare, madam, prepare!
Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are
Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised,
Armed in arguments; you'll be surprised:
Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.
5.2.90 PRINCESS
Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they
That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.
5.2.92 BOYET
Under the cool shade of a sycamore
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest
The king and his companions: warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear,
That, by and by, disguised 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 fear'd 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,
Cried, '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 cheque their folly, passion's solemn tears.
5.2.122 PRINCESS
But what, but what, come they to visit us?
5.2.123 BOYET
They do, they do: and are apparell'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.
5.2.129 PRINCESS
And will they so? the gallants shall be task'd;
For, ladies, we shall 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,
And then the king will court thee for his dear;
Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine,
So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline.
And change your favours too; so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.
5.2.139 ROSALINE
Come on, then; wear the favours most in sight.
5.2.140 KATHARINE
But in this changing what is your intent?
5.2.141 PRINCESS
The effect of my intent is to cross theirs:
They do it but in mocking merriment;
And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their several counsels they unbosom shall
To loves mistook, and so be mock'd withal
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With visages displayed, to talk and greet.
5.2.148 ROSALINE
But shall we dance, if they desire to't?
5.2.149 PRINCESS
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.
5.2.152 BOYET
Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart,
And quite divorce his memory from his part.
5.2.154 PRINCESS
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
5.2.160 BOYET
The trumpet sounds: be mask'd; the maskers come.
The Ladies mask
Enter Blackamoors with music; MOTH; FERDINAND, BEROWNE, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in Russian habits, and masked
5.2.161 MOTH
All hail, the richest beauties on the earth! –
5.2.162 BOYET
Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.
5.2.163 MOTH
A holy parcel of the fairest dames.
The Ladies turn their backs to him
That ever turn'd their – backs – to mortal views!
5.2.165 BEROWNE
[Aside to MOTH] Their eyes, villain, their eyes!
5.2.166 MOTH
That ever turn'd their eyes to mortal views! – Out –
5.2.167 BOYET
True; out indeed.
5.2.168 MOTH
Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe
Not to behold –
5.2.170 BEROWNE
[Aside to MOTH] Once to behold, rogue.
5.2.171 MOTH
Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes,
– with your sun-beamed eyes –
5.2.173 BOYET
They will not answer to that epithet;
You were best call it 'daughter-beamed eyes.'
5.2.175 MOTH
They do not mark me, and that brings me out.
5.2.176 BEROWNE
Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue!
Exit MOTH
5.2.177 ROSALINE
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.
5.2.181 BOYET
What would you with the princess?
5.2.182 BEROWNE
Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
5.2.183 ROSALINE
What would they, say they?
5.2.184 BOYET
Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.
5.2.185 ROSALINE
Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.
5.2.186 BOYET
She says, you have it, and you may be gone.
5.2.187 FERDINAND
Say to her, we have measured many miles
To tread a measure with her on this grass.
5.2.189 BOYET
They say, that they have measured many a mile
To tread a measure with you on this grass.
5.2.191 ROSALINE
It is not so. Ask them how many inches
Is in one mile: if they have measured many,
The measure then of one is easily told.
5.2.194 BOYET
If to come hither you have measured miles,
And many miles, the princess bids you tell
How many inches doth fill up one mile.
5.2.197 BEROWNE
Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.
5.2.198 BOYET
She hears herself.
5.2.199 ROSALINE
How many weary steps,
Of many weary miles you have o'ergone,
Are number'd in the travel of one mile?
5.2.202 BEROWNE
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.
5.2.207 ROSALINE
My face is but a moon, and clouded too.
5.2.208 FERDINAND
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.
5.2.211 ROSALINE
O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;
Thou now request'st but moonshine in the water.
5.2.213 FERDINAND
Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change.
Thou bid'st me beg: this begging is not strange.
5.2.215 ROSALINE
Play, music, then! Nay, you must do it soon.
Music plays
Not yet! no dance! Thus change I like the moon.
5.2.217 FERDINAND
Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
5.2.218 ROSALINE
You took the moon at full, but now she's changed.
5.2.219 FERDINAND
Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.
5.2.221 ROSALINE
Our ears vouchsafe it.
5.2.222 FERDINAND
But your legs should do it.
5.2.223 ROSALINE
Since you are strangers and come here by chance,
We'll not be nice: take hands. We will not dance.
5.2.225 FERDINAND
Why take we hands, then?
5.2.226 ROSALINE
Only to part friends:
Curtsy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.
5.2.228 FERDINAND
More measure of this measure; be not nice.
5.2.229 ROSALINE
We can afford no more at such a price.
5.2.230 FERDINAND
Prize you yourselves: what buys your company?
5.2.231 ROSALINE
Your absence only.
5.2.232 FERDINAND
That can never be.
5.2.233 ROSALINE
Then cannot we be bought: and so, adieu;
Twice to your visor, and half once to you.
5.2.235 FERDINAND
If you deny to dance, let's hold more chat.
5.2.236 ROSALINE
In private, then.
5.2.237 FERDINAND
I am best pleased with that.
They converse apart
5.2.238 BEROWNE
White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
5.2.239 PRINCESS
Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.
5.2.240 BEROWNE
Nay then, two treys, and if you grow so nice,
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey: well run, dice!
There's half-a-dozen sweets.
5.2.243 PRINCESS
Seventh sweet, adieu:
Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.
5.2.245 BEROWNE
One word in secret.
5.2.246 PRINCESS
Let it not be sweet.
5.2.247 BEROWNE
Thou grievest my gall.
5.2.248 PRINCESS
Gall! bitter.
5.2.249 BEROWNE
Therefore meet.
They converse apart
5.2.250 DUMAIN
Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
5.2.251 MARIA
Name it.
5.2.252 DUMAIN
Fair lady, –
5.2.253 MARIA
Say you so? Fair lord, –
Take that for your fair lady.
5.2.255 DUMAIN
Please it you,
As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.
They converse apart
5.2.257 KATHARINE
What, was your vizard made without a tongue?
5.2.258 LONGAVILLE
I know the reason, lady, why you ask.
5.2.259 KATHARINE
O for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.
5.2.260 LONGAVILLE
You have a double tongue within your mask,
And would afford my speechless vizard half.
5.2.262 KATHARINE
Veal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not 'veal' a calf?
5.2.263 LONGAVILLE
A calf, fair lady!
5.2.264 KATHARINE
No, a fair lord calf.
5.2.265 LONGAVILLE
Let's part the word.
5.2.266 KATHARINE
No, I'll not be your half
Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.
5.2.268 LONGAVILLE
Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks!
Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
5.2.270 KATHARINE
Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.
5.2.271 LONGAVILLE
One word in private with you, ere I die.
5.2.272 KATHARINE
Bleat softly then; the butcher hears you cry.
They converse apart
5.2.273 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.
5.2.279 ROSALINE
Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.
5.2.280 BEROWNE
By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
5.2.281 FERDINAND
Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.
5.2.282 PRINCESS
Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits.
Exeunt FERDINAND, Lords, and Blackamoors
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at?
5.2.284 BOYET
Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff'd out.
5.2.285 ROSALINE
Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.
5.2.286 PRINCESS
O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight?
Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces?
This pert Berowne was out of countenance quite.
5.2.290 ROSALINE
O, they were all in lamentable cases!
The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.
5.2.292 PRINCESS
Berowne did swear himself out of all suit.
5.2.293 MARIA
Dumain was at my service, and his sword:
No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.
5.2.295 KATHARINE
Lord Longaville said, I came o'er his heart;
And trow you what he called me?
5.2.297 PRINCESS
Qualm, perhaps.
5.2.298 KATHARINE
Yes, in good faith.
5.2.299 PRINCESS
Go, sickness as thou art!
5.2.300 ROSALINE
Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.
But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.
5.2.302 PRINCESS
And quick Berowne hath plighted faith to me.
5.2.303 KATHARINE
And Longaville was for my service born.
5.2.304 MARIA
Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
5.2.305 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.
5.2.309 PRINCESS
Will they return?
5.2.310 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.
5.2.314 PRINCESS
How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.
5.2.315 BOYET
Fair ladies mask'd are roses in their bud;
Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown,
Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.
5.2.318 PRINCESS
Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo?
5.2.320 ROSALINE
Good madam, if by me you'll be advised,
Let's, mock them still, as well known as disguised:
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Disguised 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.
5.2.328 BOYET
Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
5.2.329 PRINCESS
Whip to our tents, as roes run o'er land.
Exeunt PRINCESS, ROSALINE, KATHARINE, and MARIA
Re-enter FERDINAND, BEROWNE, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAIN, in their proper habits
5.2.330 FERDINAND
Fair sir, God save you! Where's the princess?
5.2.331 BOYET
Gone to her tent. Please it your majesty
Command me any service to her thither?
5.2.333 FERDINAND
That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
5.2.334 BOYET
I will; and so will she, I know, my lord.
Exit
5.2.335 BEROWNE
This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease,
And utters it again when God doth please:
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 courtesy;
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 whale's bone;
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.
5.2.355 FERDINAND
A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,
That put Armado's page out of his part!
5.2.357 BEROWNE
See where it comes! Behavior, what wert thou
Till this madman show'd thee? and what art thou now?
Re-enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET, ROSALINE, MARIA, and KATHARINE
5.2.359 FERDINAND
All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!
5.2.360 PRINCESS
'Fair' in 'all hail' is foul, as I conceive.
5.2.361 FERDINAND
Construe my speeches better, if you may.
5.2.362 PRINCESS
Then wish me better; I will give you leave.
5.2.363 FERDINAND
We came to visit you, and purpose now
To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then.
5.2.365 PRINCESS
This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men.
5.2.367 FERDINAND
Rebuke me not for that which you provoke:
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
5.2.369 PRINCESS
You nickname 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.
5.2.377 FERDINAND
O, you have lived in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
5.2.379 PRINCESS
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.
5.2.382 FERDINAND
How, madam! Russians!
5.2.383 PRINCESS
Ay, in truth, my lord;
Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.
5.2.385 ROSALINE
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.
5.2.394 BEROWNE
This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle sweet,
Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,
With eyes best seeing, heaven's fiery eye,
By light we lose light: your capacity
Is of that nature that to your huge store
Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor.
5.2.400 ROSALINE
This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye, –
5.2.401 BEROWNE
I am a fool, and full of poverty.
5.2.402 ROSALINE
But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
5.2.404 BEROWNE
O, I am yours, and all that I possess!
5.2.405 ROSALINE
All the fool mine?
5.2.406 BEROWNE
I cannot give you less.
5.2.407 ROSALINE
Which of the vizards was it that you wore?
5.2.408 BEROWNE
Where? when? what vizard? why demand you this?
5.2.409 ROSALINE
There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case
That hid the worse and show'd the better face.
5.2.411 FERDINAND
We are descried; they'll mock us now downright.
5.2.412 DUMAIN
Let us confess and turn it to a jest.
5.2.413 PRINCESS
Amazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad?
5.2.414 ROSALINE
Help, hold his brows! he'll swoon! Why look you pale?
Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
5.2.416 BEROWNE
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 schoolboy's tongue,
Nor never come in vizard to my friend,
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song!
Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,
Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation,
Figures pedantical; these summer-flies
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:
I do forswear them; and I here protest,
By this white glove; – how white the hand, God knows! –
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd
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.
5.2.438 ROSALINE
Sans sans, I pray you.
5.2.439 BEROWNE
Yet I have a trick
Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick;
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see:
Write, 'Lord have mercy on us' 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.
5.2.447 PRINCESS
No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
5.2.448 BEROWNE
Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.
5.2.449 ROSALINE
It is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?
5.2.451 BEROWNE
Peace! for I will not have to do with you.
5.2.452 ROSALINE
Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.
5.2.453 BEROWNE
Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end.
5.2.454 FERDINAND
Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression
Some fair excuse.
5.2.456 PRINCESS
The fairest is confession.
Were not you here but even now disguised?
5.2.458 FERDINAND
Madam, I was.
5.2.459 PRINCESS
And were you well advised?
5.2.460 FERDINAND
I was, fair madam.
5.2.461 PRINCESS
When you then were here,
What did you whisper in your lady's ear?
5.2.463 FERDINAND
That more than all the world I did respect her.
5.2.464 PRINCESS
When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.
5.2.465 FERDINAND
Upon mine honour, no.
5.2.466 PRINCESS
Peace, peace! forbear:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
5.2.468 FERDINAND
Despise me, when I break this oath of mine.
5.2.469 PRINCESS
I will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
5.2.471 ROSALINE
Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear
As precious eyesight, and did value me
Above this world; adding thereto moreover
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
5.2.475 PRINCESS
God give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honourably doth unhold his word.
5.2.477 FERDINAND
What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,
I never swore this lady such an oath.
5.2.479 ROSALINE
By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,
You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.
5.2.481 FERDINAND
My faith and this the princess I did give:
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.
5.2.483 PRINCESS
Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
And Lord Berowne, I thank him, is my dear.
What, will you have me, or your pearl again?
5.2.486 BEROWNE
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 zany,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,
That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh when she's disposed,
Told our intents before; which once disclosed,
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
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady's foot by the squier,
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.
5.2.509 BOYET
Full merrily
Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
5.2.511 BEROWNE
Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.
Enter COSTARD
Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
5.2.513 COSTARD
O Lord, sir, they would know
Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.
5.2.515 BEROWNE
What, are there but three?
5.2.516 COSTARD
No, sir; but it is vara fine,
For every one pursents three.
5.2.518 BEROWNE
And three times thrice is nine.
5.2.519 COSTARD
Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so.
You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir we know
what we know:
I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir, –
5.2.523 BEROWNE
Is not nine.
5.2.524 COSTARD
Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.
5.2.525 BEROWNE
By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.
5.2.526 COSTARD
O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living
by reckoning, sir.
5.2.528 BEROWNE
How much is it?
5.2.529 COSTARD
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 parfect one man
in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.
5.2.533 BEROWNE
Art thou one of the Worthies?
5.2.534 COSTARD
It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion the
Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of
the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.
5.2.537 BEROWNE
Go, bid them prepare.
5.2.538 COSTARD
We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take
some care.
Exit
5.2.540 FERDINAND
Berowne, they will shame us: let them not approach.
5.2.541 BEROWNE
We are shame-proof, my lord: and tis some policy
To have one show worse than the king's and his company.
5.2.543 FERDINAND
I say they shall not come.
5.2.544 PRINCESS
Nay, my good lord, let me o'errule you now:
That sport best pleases that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
5.2.550 BEROWNE
A right description of our sport, my lord.
Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
5.2.551 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal
sweet breath as will utter a brace of words.
Converses apart with FERDINAND, and delivers him a paper
5.2.553 PRINCESS
Doth this man serve God?
5.2.554 BEROWNE
Why ask you?
5.2.555 PRINCESS
He speaks not like a man of God's making.
5.2.556 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for,
I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding
fantastical; too, too vain, too too vain: but we
will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra.
I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement!
Exit
5.2.561 FERDINAND
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 Maccabaeus: And if
these four Worthies in their first show thrive,
These four will change habits, and present the other five.
5.2.567 BEROWNE
There is five in the first show.
5.2.568 FERDINAND
You are deceived; 'tis not so.
5.2.569 BEROWNE
The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool
and the boy: –
Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again
Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.
5.2.573 FERDINAND
The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.
Enter COSTARD, for Pompey
5.2.574 COSTARD
I Pompey am, –
5.2.575 BEROWNE
You lie, you are not he.
5.2.576 COSTARD
I Pompey am, –
5.2.577 BOYET
With libbard's head on knee.
5.2.578 BEROWNE
Well said, old mocker: I must needs be friends
with thee.
5.2.580 COSTARD
I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big –
5.2.581 DUMAIN
The Great.
5.2.582 COSTARD
It is, 'Great,' sir: –
Pompey surnamed 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.
5.2.589 PRINCESS
Great thanks, great Pompey.
5.2.590 COSTARD
'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect: I
made a little fault in 'Great.'
5.2.592 BEROWNE
My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.
Enter SIR NATHANIEL, for Alexander
5.2.593 SIR NATHANIEL
When in the world I lived, 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, –
5.2.598 BOYET
Your nose says, no, you are not for it stands too right.
5.2.599 BEROWNE
Your nose smells 'no' in this, most tender-smelling knight.
5.2.600 PRINCESS
The conqueror is dismay'd. Proceed, good Alexander.
5.2.601 SIR NATHANIEL
When in the world I lived, I was the world's
commander, –
5.2.603 BOYET
Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Alisander.
5.2.604 BEROWNE
Pompey the Great, –
5.2.605 COSTARD
Your servant, and Costard.
5.2.606 BEROWNE
Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.
5.2.607 COSTARD
[To SIR NATHANIEL] O, sir, 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-stool, will be given
to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror,
and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander.
SIR NATHANIEL retires
There, an't shall please you; a foolish mild man; an
honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a
marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good
bowler: but, for Alisander, – alas, you see how
'tis, – a little o'erparted. But there are Worthies
a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort.
5.2.619 PRINCESS
Stand aside good Pompey.
Enter HOLOFERNES, for Judas; and MOTH, for Hercules
5.2.620 HOLOFERNES
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.
MOTH retires
Judas I am, –
5.2.628 DUMAIN
A Judas!
5.2.629 HOLOFERNES
Not Iscariot, sir.
Judas I am, ycliped Maccabaeus.
5.2.631 DUMAIN
Judas Maccabaeus clipt is plain Judas.
5.2.632 BEROWNE
A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas?
5.2.633 HOLOFERNES
Judas I am, –
5.2.634 DUMAIN
The more shame for you, Judas.
5.2.635 HOLOFERNES
What mean you, sir?
5.2.636 BOYET
To make Judas hang himself.
5.2.637 HOLOFERNES
Begin, sir; you are my elder.
5.2.638 BEROWNE
Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.
5.2.639 HOLOFERNES
I will not be put out of countenance.
5.2.640 BEROWNE
Because thou hast no face.
5.2.641 HOLOFERNES
What is this?
5.2.642 BOYET
A cittern-head.
5.2.643 DUMAIN
The head of a bodkin.
5.2.644 BEROWNE
A Death's face in a ring.
5.2.645 LONGAVILLE
The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
5.2.646 BOYET
The pommel of Caesar's falchion.
5.2.647 DUMAIN
The carved-bone face on a flask.
5.2.648 BEROWNE
Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch.
5.2.649 DUMAIN
Ay, and in a brooch of lead.
5.2.650 BEROWNE
Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer.
And now forward; for we have put thee in countenance.
5.2.652 HOLOFERNES
You have put me out of countenance.
5.2.653 BEROWNE
False; we have given thee faces.
5.2.654 HOLOFERNES
But you have out-faced them all.
5.2.655 BEROWNE
An thou wert a lion, we would do so.
5.2.656 BOYET
Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?
5.2.658 DUMAIN
For the latter end of his name.
5.2.659 BEROWNE
For the ass to the Jude; give it him: – Jud-as, away!
5.2.660 HOLOFERNES
This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
5.2.661 BOYET
A light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark, he may stumble.
HOLOFERNES retires
5.2.662 PRINCESS
Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited!
Enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO, for Hector
5.2.663 BEROWNE
Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms.
5.2.664 DUMAIN
Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.
5.2.665 FERDINAND
Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.
5.2.666 BOYET
But is this Hector?
5.2.667 FERDINAND
I think Hector was not so clean-timbered.
5.2.668 LONGAVILLE
His leg is too big for Hector's.
5.2.669 DUMAIN
More calf, certain.
5.2.670 BOYET
No; he is best endued in the small.
5.2.671 BEROWNE
This cannot be Hector.
5.2.672 DUMAIN
He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces.
5.2.673 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, –
5.2.675 DUMAIN
A gilt nutmeg.
5.2.676 BEROWNE
A lemon.
5.2.677 LONGAVILLE
Stuck with cloves.
5.2.678 DUMAIN
No, cloven.
5.2.679 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Peace! –
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower, –
5.2.685 DUMAIN
That mint.
5.2.686 LONGAVILLE
That columbine.
5.2.687 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.
5.2.688 LONGAVILLE
I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.
5.2.689 DUMAIN
Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.
5.2.690 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks,
beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed,
he was a man. But I will forward with my device.
To the PRINCESS
Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.
5.2.694 PRINCESS
Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.
5.2.695 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.
5.2.696 BOYET
[Aside to DUMAIN] Loves her by the foot, –
5.2.697 DUMAIN
[Aside to BOYET] He may not by the yard.
5.2.698 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
This Hector far surmounted Hannibal, –
5.2.699 COSTARD
The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she
is two months on her way.
5.2.701 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
What meanest thou?
5.2.702 COSTARD
Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor
wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in
her belly already: tis yours.
5.2.705 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt
die.
5.2.707 COSTARD
Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is
quick by him and hanged for Pompey that is dead by
him.
5.2.710 DUMAIN
Most rare Pompey!
5.2.711 BOYET
Renowned Pompey!
5.2.712 BEROWNE
Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey!
Pompey the Huge!
5.2.714 DUMAIN
Hector trembles.
5.2.715 BEROWNE
Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir them
on! stir them on!
5.2.717 DUMAIN
Hector will challenge him.
5.2.718 BEROWNE
Ay, if a' have no man's blood in's belly than will
sup a flea.
5.2.720 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
By the north pole, I do challenge thee.
5.2.721 COSTARD
I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man:
I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword. I bepray you,
let me borrow my arms again.
5.2.724 DUMAIN
Room for the incensed Worthies!
5.2.725 COSTARD
I'll do it in my shirt.
5.2.726 DUMAIN
Most resolute Pompey!
5.2.727 MOTH
Master, let me take you a buttonhole lower. Do you
not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean
you? You will lose your reputation.
5.2.730 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat
in my shirt.
5.2.732 DUMAIN
You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge.
5.2.733 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Sweet bloods, I both may and will.
5.2.734 BEROWNE
What reason have you for't?
5.2.735 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go
woolward for penance.
5.2.737 BOYET
True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of
linen: since when, I'll be sworn, he wore none but
a dishclout of Jaquenetta's, and that a' wears next
his heart for a favour.
Enter MERCADE
5.2.741 MERCADE
God save you, madam!
5.2.742 PRINCESS
Welcome, Mercade;
But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.
5.2.744 MERCADE
I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father –
5.2.746 PRINCESS
Dead, for my life!
5.2.747 MERCADE
Even so; my tale is told.
5.2.748 BEROWNE
Worthies, away! the scene begins to cloud.
5.2.749 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
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
5.2.752 FERDINAND
How fares your majesty?
5.2.753 PRINCESS
Boyet, prepare; I will away tonight.
5.2.754 FERDINAND
Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
5.2.755 PRINCESS
Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,
For all your fair endeavors; 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 nimble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain'd.
5.2.766 FERDINAND
The extreme parts of time extremely forms
All causes to the purpose of his speed,
And often at his very loose decides
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love
The holy suit which fain it would convince,
Yet, since love's argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost
Is not by much so wholesome-profitable
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
5.2.778 PRINCESS
I understand you not: my griefs are double.
5.2.779 BEROWNE
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,
Form'd by the eye and therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which parti-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecomed 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.
5.2.803 PRINCESS
We have received 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 time:
But more devout than this in our respects
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
5.2.811 DUMAIN
Our letters, madam, show'd much more than jest.
5.2.812 LONGAVILLE
So did our looks.
5.2.813 ROSALINE
We did not quote them so.
5.2.814 FERDINAND
Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
5.2.816 PRINCESS
A time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured 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 the 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 instant shut
My woeful 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 entitled in the other's heart.
5.2.841 FERDINAND
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.
5.2.845 BEROWNE
[And what to me, my love? and what to me?
5.2.846 ROSALINE
You must be purged too, your sins are rack'd,
You are attaint with faults and perjury:
Therefore if you my favour mean to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick]
5.2.851 DUMAIN
But what to me, my love? but what to me? A wife?
5.2.852 KATHARINE
A beard, fair health, and honesty;
With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
5.2.854 DUMAIN
O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
5.2.855 KATHARINE
Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a day
I'll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say:
Come when the king doth to my lady come;
Then, if I have much love, I'll give you some.
5.2.859 DUMAIN
I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
5.2.860 KATHARINE
Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again.
5.2.861 LONGAVILLE
What says Maria?
5.2.862 MARIA
At the twelvemonth's end
I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
5.2.864 LONGAVILLE
I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.
5.2.865 MARIA
The liker you; few taller are so young.
5.2.866 BEROWNE
Studies my lady? mistress, look on me;
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there:
Impose some service on me for thy love.
5.2.870 ROSALINE
Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Berowne,
Before I saw you; and the world's large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks,
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,
Which you on all estates will execute
That lie within the mercy of your wit.
To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And therewithal to win me, if you please,
Without the which I am not to be won,
You shall this 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 endeavor of your wit
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
5.2.884 BEROWNE
To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
5.2.887 ROSALINE
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,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.
5.2.899 BEROWNE
A twelvemonth! well; befall what will befall,
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.
5.2.901 PRINCESS
[To FERDINAND] Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave.
5.2.902 FERDINAND
No, madam; we will bring you on your way.
5.2.903 BEROWNE
Our wooing doth not end like an old play;
Jack hath not Jill: these ladies' courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.
5.2.906 FERDINAND
Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,
And then 'twill end.
5.2.908 BEROWNE
That's too long for a play.
Re-enter DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
5.2.909 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me, –
5.2.910 PRINCESS
Was not that Hector?
5.2.911 DUMAIN
The worthy knight of Troy.
5.2.912 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
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.
5.2.919 FERDINAND
Call them forth quickly; we will do so.
5.2.920 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
Holla! approach.
Re-enter HOLOFERNES, SIR 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.
The Song
5.2.924 SPRING
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
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!
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;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
5.2.940 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, Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow
And coughing drowns the parson's saw
And birds sit brooding in the snow
And Marian's nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl, Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
5.2.956 DON ADRIANO DE ARMADO
The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of
Apollo. You that way: we this way.
Exeunt
Contents

Finis