• To The Reader
• 1. Shakspere or Shakespeare?
• 2. Shakespeare a Pseudonym?
• 3. Treasure Texts
  • 3.1. Harvey - Nashe The Players
    • 3.1.1. Harvey Gratulationes Valdinenses
    • 3.1.2. Harvey, Three proper
    • 3.1.3. Lyly, Pappe with an hatchet
    • 3.1.4. Harvey, Foure Letters
    • 3.1.5. Nashe, Strange Newes
    • 3.1.6. Harvey, Pierces’s Supererogation
    • 3.1.7. Harvey, A New Letter
    • 3.1.7.1 Ox, Old Ass, Gentlewoman
    • 3.1.8. Peele, The Old Wives Tale
    • 3.1.9. Shakespeare, Loves Labors Lost
    • 3.1.10. Nashe, Have with you
  • 3.2. Gascoigne-Willobie
  • 3.3. Munday - Shakespeare
  • 3.4. Spenser - Edwards
  • 3.5. Lyly-Greene-Chettle
  • 3.6. Hall-Marston-Parnassus
  • 3.7. Sir Thomas Smythes voiage
  • 3.8. List of contemporary witnesses
• 4. Edward de Vere
• 5. Works
• 6. Ben Jonson’s Forgery
• 7. Research for Shake-speare
• 9. Relationship
• 10. Chronology

3.1.9. Shakespeare, Loves Labors Lost, Quarto 1598

 

3.1.9. William Shakespeare, Loves labors lost ( written 1594/95; ed. 1598)

 

WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE did indeed succeed in fulfilling the appellations ‘Master William’ and ‘the excellent Gentlewoman’ assigned to him by Thomas Nashe and Gabriel Harvey – and, having met and thwarted their expectations, went on to develop a “new arranged Chaucer” (“with Terence now and then”). His comedy, based on one of his earlier works, transforms the two adversaries and places them on stage under a new guise: the fantastical Spaniard ‘Don Adriano de Armado’ and his page ‘Moth’ (or Thom, the moth).

In the hands of the ingenious author, the squabbling pair undergo an incredible metamorphosis. Armado’s loquacious vanity comes across not as being repulsive, but unspeakably funny – while the hilarity of Moth’s capricious impudence serves him in playing the part of the springboard and stooge. From the toxic bizarrerie of the quarrel involving Harvey and Nashe, Shakespeare conjures a play within a play: elegant, weightless and replete with timeless humour.

There are many well-known reasons as to why Shakespeare drew on an earlier version for Loves labors lost. What stands out are the substitutions found in the speakers names. (Ferdinand=Navarra=King, Princesse=Queene, Armado=Braggart, Moth=Boy=Page, Costard=Clowne, Holofernes=Pedant, Nathaniel=Curate), which the author only made in part and the printer forgot to complete.

A wealth of allusions to the Harvey-Nashe quarrel (1592/93) can found in scenes I/1, I/2, III/1, V/1 and V/2. (The first edition of Shakespeare to divide the play into acts and scenes is that of Nicholas Rowe, 1709.) In the “updated” version, Acts II and IV remained almost untouched.

Although a consensus exists that there must have been an earlier version of Loves labors lost, opinion is split over the year, or years, to which it should be dated.

We should make a note of the following observations:

- The figures that appear in the play in the French Court (Navarre, Berowne, Longavill, Dumaine) date from the the 1570s and 1580s. (Henri de Navarre would become Henri Quatre, Roi de France in 1589.) Henri de Navarre, Seigneur de Biron and the Duke of Mayenne (in French: duc de Mayenne, comte du Maine) lived together under the same roof until Henri escaped the Louvre on the 5^th February 1576 – in other words, at the court of Henri III and his brother, the Duke of Alençon (in French: duc d’Alençon = ‘Monsieur’). Following the Edict of Beaulieu on the 4^th May 1576, which was issued by Catherine de Medici and her son Alençon, who was welcoming of Protestants, the brothers the Duke of Guise and the Duke of Mayenne distanced themselves from Roi Henri III and assumed leadership of the Catholic League. Seigneur de Biron, who was appointed Marshall of France in 1577, fought against the Duke of Mayenne in the Battle of Arques (September 1589) and the Battle of Ivry (March 1590). - From a historical viewpoint, the friendship group including ‘Navarre’, ‘Berowne’ and ‘Dumaine’ only existed prior to 1576. In 1589, at the latest, following the murder of Henri III and the belligerent dispute between Henri IV and Mayenne, the idea of conceptualising a play in which Navarre, Berowne and Dumaine are to be seen strolling around a park in each other's company would have been completely out of the question.

- The project for a platonic, literary Académie du Palais (which provided the model for ‘Ferdinand’ de Navarre’s arts academy) was operated between 1576-1585 by Roi Henri III. - The only English author ever to personally meet Henri III, Henri de Navarre, the Duke of Alençon, the Duke of Mayenne, Seigneur de Biron and Marrguerite de Valois at the Louvre (during his visits in 1575 and 1576, where he most probably was granted entry to a meeting of the “Académie du Palais”) was Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford. 

- Aside from her French way of dress, ‘The Princesse of France’ (originally ‘The Queene’) in Loves labors lost greatly resembles Queen Elizabeth. The topic of the comedy - the futile attempts of the lords of creation to woo any of the infallible ladies present - is at first an aside to Elizabeth’s “French marriage”, before then moving to centre stage. Put differently, the aristocratic comedy served as a humorous vindication of Elizabeth's not so decorous behaviour. (See 3.1. The players.) – In this respect, the play could not have appeared all that long after the breakdown of the French marriage (1583), nor in the immediate period before or after the death of the Duke of Alençon (10 June 1584) – thus somewhere between 1583-85.

- A parallel play to Loves labors lost exists, which shares three characters with Shakespeare's comedy. In John Lyly's Endymion, The Man in the Moone (written around 1583/84 and first performed in 1585) the boastful knight Sir Tophas (after Geoffrey Chaucer's Sir Thopas) and his pallid squire Epiton appear on stage instead of Don Armado and his page. Sir Tophas falls in love with the old witch Dipsas (the parallel figure to the dairymaid Jacquenetta). Endymion too, the hero in Lyly's comedy, proves to be an inept suitor: jealous of ‘Cynthia’, earthling Tellus casts him into a deep slumber, from which he is awoken with a kiss by the divine Moon-Queen. (Endymion and the first version of Loves labors lost must have appeared around the same time.)

- Scattered throughout the entire play are allusions to both Gabriel Harvey's performance in front of the Queen in Audley End (1578) and the satirical poem “Speculum Tuscanismi” (1580). Based on this and the parallels in Lyly's Endymion, one might draw the conclusion that the first version of Loves labors lost already contained the figure of “Braggart”, who was directed at Harvey. It was for this very reason that Thomas Nashe, who had heard of the old version of, wrote to ‘Master William’: “let Chaucer be new scored [arranged] against the day of battle, and Terence come but in now and then with the snuff of a sentence.” In another passage he writes: “Nihil pro nihilo … what it will do upon the stage I cannot tell, for there a man may make action besides his part when he hath nothing at all to say: and if there, it is but a clownish action that it will bear: for what can be made of a Ropemaker more than a Clown? Will Kempe, I mistrust it will fall to thy lot for a merriment one of these days” (Strange Newes, 1593). Harvey responds with: “Such an Antagonist hath fortune allotted me, to purge melancholy, and to thrust me upon the Stage: which I must now load, like the old subject of my new praise.” (See 3.1.6 Harvey, Pierces Supererogation, note 132.) The allusions to Speculum Tuscanismi (1580) also concur with the notion that the original version of Loves labors lost appeared in the early 1580s.

- The comedy depicts the derailment of the male Eros and the economy of the female Distance. It provides more contention that it does reconciliation, more debacle than hope, more puns than insight. His knack for self-mockery, his passion for language and multilingualism come together to form the euphuistic ironic reflex fashionable in 1580. 

And when did the new, “updated” version of Loves labors lost appear? It was certainly not as late as 1596/97 but rather already in 1594/95, in other words not long after the appeals made to ‘the excellent Gentlewoman’ by Gabriel Harvey (Sept./Oct. 1593) or George Peele’s burlesque The Old Wives Tale (written in 1593/94).

We can find evidence in favour of this supposition in the allusions to Loves labors lost present in Thomas Nashe’s Have with You to Saffron Walden (September 1596). Amongst these is Nashe's unusual use of Spanish-sounding names and terms. (“Don Richardo Barbarossa de Caesario”, “Seignior Importuno”, “Pachecoes”, “these newfangled galiardos and Seignior Fantasticos, to whose amorous villanellas and quipassas I prostitute my pen”, “Don Pedant”, “Basilisco”, “Bassia de umbra de umbra des los pedes”). Nashe also mentions Harvey's pamphlet “the huge Armada against me”, speaking in reference to Gabriel Harvey's Don Adriano de Armado as “Doctor Deuce-ace” and “Domine Deuce-ace” and, referencing him, rhymes: “Gabriel Harvey, fame's duckling, / hey noddy, noddy, noddy, / Is made a gosling [goose] and a suckling.” - In fact, the cheeky moth in Loves labors lost had bestowed upon his master the chance to perform as a goose: “Until the Goose came out of doore, / And staied the oddes by adding foure.”

Remarking on his rhymes, Nashe says: “here is the tuft or label of a rime or two, the trick or habit of which I got by looking on a red nose Ballad-maker that resorted to our Printing-house. They are to the tune of Labore Dolore.” - The “red nose Ballad-maker” is, as Robert Detobel has pointed out, none other than Shakespeare (see Master William’s “Comment upon Red-noses” in Strange Newes); the “Printing-house” is the house belonging to Nashe's publisher John Danter, who published “Titus Andronicus” in 1594 and “Romeo and Juliet” in 1597 (a “rather good” and a “bad quarto”); and “the tune of Labore dolore” is the tune of “Love’s Labour’s Lost.” (See Robert Detobel, Love's Labours Lost and Thomas Nashe, 2009.) At the same time is it plausible that Danter might have brought out an earlier (unauthorised) edition of Loves labors lost in 1595 or 1596, hinted at in the title of the 1598 quarto: “Newly corrected and augmented by W. Shakespere.”

The text is rendered using the original orthography from the quarto of 1598 because, up to now, a coherent rendering of this edition has not been available online.

The play can be found broken down into 76 parts on the website ; in addition, it is not possible to work out which character is speaking when due to the confusing abbreviation of the speakers' names. The quarto of Loves labors lost (1598) acted as a master for the First Folio (1623) but deviates slightly in terms of spelling. (Nicholas Rowe was the first person to give the play the revised textual form for which it is know today in 1709.)

The spelling of u and v, i and j, i (ie) and y is regularised.

 

 

A pleasant Conceited Comedy called,
Loves labors lost.
As it was presented before her Highnes this last Christmas.
Newly corrected and augmented
By W. Shakespere.

Imprinted at London by W. W.
for Cutbert Burby
1598.

 

 

 

 

Enter Ferdinand King of Navarre, Berowne,
Longavill, and Dumaine.
[1]

 

Ferdinand.
Let Fame, that all hunt after in their lives,
Live registred upon our brazen Tombes,
And then grace us, in the disgrace of death:
When spight of cormorant devouring Time,
Thendevour of this present breath may buy:
That honour which shall bare his scythes keene edge,
And make us heires of all eternity.
Therefore brave Conquerours, for so you are,
That warre against your owne affections,
And the hudge army of the worldes desires.
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force,
Navarre shall be the wonder of the worlde.
Our Court shalbe a litlle Achademe,
Still and contemplative in living art.
You three, Berowne, Dumaine, and Longavill,
Have sworne for three yeeres tearme, to live with me:
My fellow Schollers, and to keepe those statutes
That are recorded in this sedule here.
Your othes are past, and now subscribe your names:
That his owne hand may strike his honour downe,
That violates the smallest branch herein.
If you are armd to do, as sworne to do,
Subscribe to your deepe othes, and keepe it to.
 
Longavill.
I am resolved, tis but a thee yeeres fast:
The minde shall banquet, though the body pine,
Fat paunches have leane pates: and dainty bits
Make rich the ribbes, but bancrout quite the wits.
 
Dumaine.
My loving Lord, Dumaine is mortefied,
The grosser manner of these worldes de lights:
He throwes uppon the grosse worlds baser slaves
To love, to wealth, to pome, I pine and die,
With all these living in Philosophy.
 
Berowne.
I can but say their protestation over,
So much deare Liedge, I have already sworne,
That is, to live and study heere three yeeres.
But there are other strickt observances:
As not to see a woman in that terme,
Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
And one day in a weeke to touch no foode:
And but one meale on every day beside:
The which I hope is not enrolled there.
And then to sleepe but three houres in the night,
And not be seene to wincke of all the day.
When I was wont to thinke no harme all night,
And make a darke night too of halfe the day:
Which I hope well is not enrolled there.
O these are barraine taskes, too hard to keepe,
Not to see Ladies, study, fast, not sleepe.
 
Ferdinand.
Your othe is past, to passe away from these.
 
Berowne.
Let me say no my liedge, and if you please,
I onely swore to study with your grace,
And stay heere in your Court for three yeeres space.
 
Longavill.
You swore to that Berowne, and to the rest.
 
Berowne.
By yea and nay sir, than I swore in jest.
What is the ende of study, let me know?
 
Ferdinand.
Why that to know which else we should not know.
 
Berowne.
Things hid & bard (you meane) from cammon sense.
 
Ferdinand.
I, that is studies god-like recompence.
 
Berowne.
Com'on then, I will sweare to study so,
To know the thing I am forbid to know:
As thus, to study where I well may dine.
When I to fast expressely am forbid.
Or study where to meete some Mistris fine.
When Mistresses from common sense are hid.
Or having sworne too hard a keeping oth,
Study to breake it, and not breake my troth.
If studies gaine be thus, and this be so,
Study knowes that which yet it doth not know,
Sweare me to this, and I will nere say no.
 
Ferdinand.
These be the stopps that hinder study quit,
And traine our intelects to vaine delight.
 
Berowne.
Why? all delightes are vaine, but that most vaine
Which with paine purchas'd, doth inherite paine,
As painefully to poare upon a Booke,
To seeke the light of trueth, while trueth the while
Doth falsely blinde the eye-sight of his looke:
Light seeking light, doth light of light beguile:
So ere you finde where light in darknes lies,
Your light growes darke by loosing of your eyes.
Study me how to please the eye in deede,
By fixing it uppon a fairer eye,
Who dazling so, that eye shalbe his heed.
And give him light that it was blinded by.
Study is like the heavens glorious Sunne,
That will not be deepe searcht with saucy lookes:
Small have continuall plodders ever wonne,
Save base authority from others Bookes.
These earthly Godfathers of heavens lights,
That give a name to every fixed Starre,
Have no more profite of their shining nights,
Then those that walke and wot not what they are.
Too much to know, is to know nought but fame:
And every Godfather can give a name.
 
Ferdinand.
How well hees read to reason against reading.
 
Dumaine.
Proceeded well, to stop all good proceeding.
 
Longavill.
He weedes the corne, & still lets grow the weeding.
 
Berowne.
The Spring is neare when greene geese are a breeding.
 
Dumaine.
How followes that?
 
Berowne.
Fit in his place and time.
 
Dumaine.
In reason nothing.
 
Berowne.
Something then in rime.
 
Ferdinand.
Berowne is like an envious sneaping Frost,
That bites the first borne infants of the Spring.
 
Berowne.
Well, say I am, why should proude Sommer boast,
Before the Birdes have any cause to sing?
Why should I joy in any abhortive birth?
At Christmas I no more desire a Rose,
Then with a Snow in Mayes new fangled showes:
But like of each thing that in season growes.
So you to study now it is too late,
Climbe ore the house to unlocke the little gate.
 
Ferdinand.
Well, sit you out: go home Berowne: adue.
 
Berowne.
No my good Lord, I have sworne to stay with you.
And though I have for barbarisme spoke more
Then for that Angell knowledge you can say,
Yet confident Ile keepe what I have sworne,
And bide the pennance of each three yeeres day.
Give me the paper, let me reade the same,
And to the strictest decrees Ile write my name.
 
Ferdinand.
How well this yeelding rescues thee from shame.
 
Berowne.
Item, That no woman shall come within a mile of
my Court. Hath this bin proclaimed?
 
Longavill.
Foure dayes ago.
 
Berowne.
Lets see the penalty. On paine of loosing her tung.
Who devis'd this penaltie?
 
Longavill.
Marry that did I.
 
Berowne.
Sweete Lord and why?
 
Longavill.
To fright them hence with that dread penalty.
A dangerous law against gentlety.
Item, If any man be seene to talke with a woman within
the tearme of three yeeres, he shall indure such public
shame as the rest of the Court can possible devise.
 
Berowne.
This Article my liedge your selfe must breake,
For well you know here comes in Embassay,
The French kinges daughter with your selfe to speake:
A Maide of grace and complet majesty,
About surrender up of Aquitaine,
To her decrepit, sicke, and bedred Father.
Therefore this Article is made in vaine,
Or vainely comes th'admired Princesse hither.
 
Ferdinand.
What say you Lordes? why, this was quite forgot.
 
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 townes with fire, so won so lost.
 
Ferdinand.
We must offorce dispence with this Decree,
Shee must lie heere on meere necessity.
 
Berowne.
Necessity will make us all forsworne
Three thousand times within this three yeeres space:
For every man with his affectes is borne,
Not by might mastred, but by speciall grace.
If I breake faith, this word shall speake for me,
I am forsworne on meere necessity.
So to the Lawes at large I write my name,
And he that breakes them in the least degree,
Standes in attainder of eternall shame.
Suggestions are to other as to me:
But I beleeve although I seeme so loth,
I am the last that will last keepe his oth.
But is there no quicke recreation graunted?
 
Ferdinand.
I that there is, our Court you know is haunted
With a refined travailer of Spaine[2],
A man in all the worldes new fashion planted,
That hath a mint of phrases in his braine:
On who the musique of his owne vaine tongue
Doth ravish like inchannting harmony:
A man of complementswhom right and wrong
Have chose as umpier of their muteny.
This childe of Fancy that Armado hight[3],
For interim to our studies shall relate,
In high borne wordes the worth of many a Knight:
From tawny Spaine[4] lost in the worldes debate.
How you delight my Lords I know not I,
But I protest I love to heare him lie[5],
And I will use him for my Minstrelsy.

Berowne.
Armado is a most illustrious wight,
A man of fier new wordes, Fashions owne knight[6].

Longavill.
Costard the swaine and he, shalbe our sport[7],
And so to study three yeeres is but short.

Enter a Constable with Costard with a letter.

Constable.
Which is the Dukes owne person?

Berowne.
This fellow, What would'st?

Constable.
I my selfe reprehend his owne person, for I am his
graces Farborough: But I would see his owne person
in flesh and blood.

Berowne.
This is he.
 
Constable.
Signeour Arme Arme commendes you:
Ther's villany abroad, this letter will tell you more[8].
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Sir the Contempts thereof are as touching me[9].
 
Ferdinand.
A letter from the magnifisent Armado[10].
 
Berowne.
How low so ever the matter, I hope in God for high words.
 
Longavill.
A high hope for a low heaven. God grant us patience.
 
Berowne.
To heare, or forbeare hearing.
 
Longavill.
To heare meekely sir, and to laugh moderatly, or
to forbeare both.
 
Berowne.
Well sir, be it as the stile shall give us cause to clime
in the merrines[s][11].
 
Clowne [=Costard].
The matter is to me sir, as concerning Iaquenetta:
The manner of it is, I was taken with the manner[12].
 
Berowne.
In what manner?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
In manner and forme folowing sir all those three[13].
I was seene with her in the Manner house, sitting with her
uppon the Forme, and taken following her into the Parke:
which put togeather, is in manner and forme following.
Now sir for the manner, It is the manner of a man to speake
to a woman, for the forme in some forme.
 
Berowne.
For the following sir.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
As it shall follow in my correction, and God defend the right.
 
Ferdinand.
Will you heare this Letter with attention ?
 
Berowne.
As we would heare an Oracle.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Such is the sinplicity of man to harken after the flesh.
 
Ferdinand.
Great Deputy the welki[n]s Vizgerent, and sole dominatur of
Navarre, my soules earthes God, and bodies fostring patrone:[14]
 
Costard.
Not a worde of Costart yet.
 
Ferdinand.
So it is.
 
Costard.
It may be so: but if he say it is so, he is in telling true:
but so.
 
Ferdinand.
Peace.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Be to me, and every man that dares not fight.
 
Ferdinand.
No wordes.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Of other mens secrets I beseech you.
 
Ferdinand.
So it is besedged with sable coloured melancholy, I did
commende the blacke oppressing humour to the most holsome phisicke
of thy health-geving aire: And as I am a Gentleman, betooke my
selfe to walke: the time When? about the sixt houre, When Beastes
most grase, Birdes best peck, and Men sit downe to that nourishment
which is called Supper: So much for the time When. Now for the
ground Which? which I meane I walkt upon, it is ycliped Thy Park.
Then for the place Where?[15] where I meane, I did incounter that obseene
& most propostrous event that draweth from  my snow-white pen the
ebon coloured Incke[16], which here thou viewest, beholdest, survayest, or
seest. But to the place Where? It standeth North North-east & by
East from the West corner of thy curious knotted garden; There
did I see that low spirited Swaine, that base Minow of thy mirth,
 
(Clowne. Mee?)
 
that unlettered smal knowing soule,
 
(Clowne. Mee?)
 
that shallow vassall
 
(Clowne. Still mee.)
 
which as I remember,
hight Costard,
 
(Clowne. O mee)
 
sorted and consorted contrary to
thy established proclaimed Edict and continent Cannon: Which
with, ô with, but with this I passion to say wherewith:[17]
 
Clowne [=Costard].
With a Wench.
 
Ferdinand.
With a childe of our Grandmother Eve, a female; or for thy
more sweete understanding a Woman: him, I (as my ever esteemed
duety prickes me on[18]) have sent to thee, to receive the meede of pu-
nishment by thy sweete Graces Officer[19] Anthony Dull , a man of
good reput, carriage bearing, and estimation.
 
Anthony [=Dull].
Me ant shall please you? I am Anthony Dull.
 
Ferdinand.
For Iaquenetta ( so is the weaker vessell called) which I
apprehended with the aforesaid Swaine, I keepe her as a vessell of
thy Lawes fury, and shall at the least of thy sweete notice, bring
hir to tryall. Thine in all complements of devoted and hartburning
beate of duety.
 Don Adriano de Armado.
 
Berowne.
This is not so well as I looked for, but the best that ever I heard.
 
Ferdinand.
I the best, for the wost. But sirra, What say you to this?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Sir I confesse the Wench.
 
Ferdinand.
Did you heare the Proclamation?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I do confesse much of the hearing it, but little of the
marking of it.
 
Ferdinand.
It was proclaimed a yeeres imprisonment to be ta-
ken with a Wench.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I was taken with none sir, I was taken with a Demsel.
 
Ferdinand.
Well, it was proclaimed Damsel.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
This was no Damsel neither sir, she was a Virgin.
 
Berowne.
It is so varried too, for it was proclaimed Virgin.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
If it were, I deny her Virginity: I was taken with a Maide.
 
Ferdinand.
This Maide will not serve your turne sir.
 
Clowne [=Costard].  
This Maide will serve my turne sir.
 
Ferdinand.
Sir I will pronounce your sentence: You shall fast a
weeke with Branne and Water.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I had rather pray a month with Mutton & Porridge.
 
Ferdinand.
And Don Armado shall be your keeper.
My Lord Berowne, see him delivered ore,
And goe we Lordes to put in practise that,
Which each to other hath so strongly sworne.
 
Berowne.
Ile lay my Head to any good mans Hat,
These othes and lawes will prove an idle scorne.
Surra, Come on.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I suffer for the trueth sir: for true it is, I was taken
with Iaquenetta, and Iaquenetta is a trew girle, and therefore
welcome the sower Cup of prospery, affliccio [!] may
one day smile againe, and till then sit thee downe sorrow.
Exeunt.
 
 
[SCENE II. The park]
 
 
Enter Armado and Moth[20] his Page.
 
Armado.
Boy, What signe is it when a man of great spirite
growes melancholy?[21]
 
Boy.
A great signe sir that he will looke sadd.
 
Armado.
Why? sadnes is one & the selfe same thing deare imp.
 
Boy.
No no, O Lord sir no.
 
Armado.
How canst thou part sadnes and melancholy, my
tender Iuvenall? [22]
 
Boy.
By a familier demonstration of the working, my
tough signeor[23].
 
Armado.
Why tough signeor? Why tough signeor?
 
Boy.
Why tender iuvenall? Why tender iuvenall?
 
Armado.
I spoke it tender iuvenall, as a congruent apethaton
apperteining to thy young dayes[24], which we may nominate
tender.
 
Boy.
And I tough signeor, as an appertinent title to your
olde time, which we may name tough.
 
Armado.
Pretty and apt.
 
Boy.
How meane you sir, I pretty, and my saying apt?
or I apt, and my saying prettie?
 
Armado.
Thou pretty because little.
 
Boy.
Little pretty, because little: wherefore apt.
 
Armado.
And therefore apt, because quicke.
 
Boy.
Speake you this in my praise Maister?
 
Armado.
In thy condigne praise.
 
Boy.
I will praise an Eele with the same praise.[25]
 
Armado.
What? that an Eele is ingenious.
 
Boy.
That an Eele is quicke.
 
Armado.
I do say thou art quicke in answeres. Thou heatst
my blood.
 
Boy.
I am answerd sir.
 
Armado.
I love not to be crost.
 
Boy.
He speakes the meer contrary, crosses love not him.
 
Armado.
I have promised to study three yeeres with the duke.
 
Boy.
You may do it in an houre sir.
 
Armado.
Impossible.
 
Boy.
How many is one thrice tolde?
 
Armado.
I am ill at reckning, it fitteth the spirit of a Tapster.[26]
 
Boy.
You are a Gentleman and a Gamster sir.
 
Armado.
I confesse both, they are both the varnish of a compleat man.
 
Boy.
Then I am sure you know how much the grosse
summe of deus-ace amountes to[27].
 
Armado.
It doth amount to one more then two .
 
Boy.
Which the base vulgar do call three.
 
Armado.
True.
 
Boy.
Why sir is this such a peece of studie? Now heere is
three studied ere yele thrice wincke: and how easy it is to
put yeeres to the worde three, and study three yeeres in two
wordes, the dauncing Horse will tell you.
 
Armado.
A most fine Figure.
 
Boy.
To prove you a Cypher.
 
Armado.
I will hereupon confesse I am in love: and as it is
base for a Souldier to love; so am I in love with a base wench.
If drawing my Sword against the humor of affection, would
deliver me from the reprobate thought of it[28], I would take
Desire prisoner, and ransome him to any French Courtier
for a new devisde cursy. I thinke scorne to sigh, mee thinks
I should outsweare Cupid. Comfort mee Boy, What great
men have bin in love?
 
Boy.
Hercules Maister.
 
Armado.
Most sweete Hercules: more authority deare Boy,
name more; and sweete my childe let them be men of good
repute and carriage[29].
 
Boy.
Sampson Maister, he was a man of good carriage,
great carriage: for he carried the Towne-gates on his backe
like a Porter: and he was in love.
 
Armado.
O wel knit Sampson, strong jointed Sampson; I do excel
thee in my rapier, a much as thou didst me in carying gates.
I am in love too. Who was Sampsons love my deare Moth?
 
Boy.
A Woman, Maister.
 
Armado.
Of what complexion?
 
Boy.
Of all the foure, or the three, or the two, or one of
the foure.[30]
 
Armado.
Tell me precisely of what complexion?
 
Boy.
Of the sea-water Greene sir.[31]
 
Armado.
Is that one of the foure complexions?
 
Boy.
As I have read sir, and the best of them too.
 
Armado.
Greene in deede is the colour of Lovers: but to
have a love of that colour, mee thinkes Sampson had small
reason for it. He surely affected her for her wit.
 
Boy.
It was so sir, for she had a greene wit[32].
 
Armado.
My love is most immaculate white and red.
 
Boy.
Most maculate thoughts Maister, are maskt under
such colours.
 
Armado.
Define, define, well educated infant.
 
Boy.
My fathers wit, and my mothers tongue assist me.
 
Armado.
Sweet invocation of a child, most pretty & pathetical.
 
Boy.
If she be made of white and red,
Her faultes wil nere be knowne:
For blush-in cheekes by faultes are bred,
And feares by pale white showne:
Then if she feare or be to blame,
By this you shall not know,
For still her cheekes possese the same,
Which native she doth owe
A dangerous rime maister against the reason of white & red.
 
Armado.
Is there not a Ballet, Boy, of the King & the Begger?[33]
 
Boy.
The worlde was very guilty of such a Ballet some
three ages since, but I thinke now tis not to be found: or if it
were, it would neither serve for the writing, nor the tune.
 
Armado.
I will have that subiect newly writ ore, that I may
example my digression by some mighty presedent. Boy,
I do love, that Countrey girle that I tooke in the Parke
with the rational hinde Costard: [34] she deserves well.
 
Boy.
To be whipt: and yet a better love then my maister.
 
Armado.
Sing Boy, My spirit growes heavy in love.
 
Boy.
And thats great marvaile, loving a light Wench .
 
Armado.
I say sing.
 
Boy.
Forbeare till this company be past.
 
Enter Clowne, Constable, and Wench.
 
Constable.
Sir, the Dukes pleasure is that you keepe Costard
safe, and you must suffer him to take no delight, nor no pe-
nance, but a'must fast three dayes a weeke: for this Damsell
I must keepe her at the Parke, she is alowde for the Day
woman[35]. Fare you well.
 
Armado.
I do betray my selfe with blushing[36]: Maide.
 
Maide [=Iaquenetta].
Man.
 
Armado.
I will visit thee at the Lodge.
 
Maide [=Iaquenetta].
Thats hereby.
 
Armado.
I know where it is situate.
 
Maide [=Iaquenetta].
Lord how wise you are.
 
Armado.
I will tell thee wonders.
 
Maide [=Iaquenetta].
With that face.
 
Armado.
I love thee.
 
Maide [=Iaquenetta].
So I heard you say.
 
Armado.
And so farewell.
 
Maide [=Iaquenetta].
Faire weather after you.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Come Iaquenetta, away.
 
Exeunt.
 
Armado.
Villaine, thou shalt fast for thy offences ere thou be
pardoned.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Well sir I hope when I do it, I shall do it on a full
stomacke.
 
Armado.
Thou shalt be heavely punished.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I am more bound to you then your fellowes, for they
are but lightly rewarded.
 
Armado.
Take away this villaine, shut him up.
 
Boy.
Come you transgressing slave, away.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Let me not be pent up sir, I will fast being loose.
 
Boy.
No sir, that were fast and loose: thou shalt to prison.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Well, if ever I do see the merry dayes of desolation
that I have seene, some shall see.
 
Boy.
What shall some see?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Nay nothing M. Moth, but what they looke uppon.
It is not for prisoners to be too silent in their wordes, and
therfore I will say nothing: I thanke God I have as litle patience
as an other man, & therfore I can be quiet.[37]
Exit.
 
Armado.
I do affect the very ground (which is base) where her
shoo (which is baser) guided by her foote (which is basest)
doth tread. I shall be forsworne (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 Divell.
There is no evill angel but Love, yet was Sampson so temp-
ted, and he had an excellent strength: Yet was Salomon so
seduced, and he had a very good wit. Cupids Butshaft is too
hard for Hercules Clubb[38], and therefore too much oddes for a
Spaniards Rapier: The first and second cause will not serve
my turne: the Passado he respects not, the Duella he regards
not; his disgrace is to be called Boy, but his glory is to sub-
due men. Adue Valoure, rust Rapier, be still Drum, for your
manager is in love; yea he loveth. Assist me some extempo-
rall God of Rime, for I am sure I shall turne Sonnet. Devise
Wit, write Pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio[39].
Exit.
 
 
[ACT II. SCENE I. The park]
 
 
Enter the Princesse of Fraunce, with three
attending Ladies and three Lordes.
 
Boyet.
Now Maddame summon up your dearest spirrits,
Consider who the King your father sendes:
To whom he sendes, and whats his Embassy.
Your selfe, helde precious in the worldes esteeme,
To parlee with the sole inheritoure
Of all perfections that a man may owe,
Matchles Navarre, the plea of no lesse weight,
Then Aquitaine a Dowry for a Queene [=Princesse].
Be now as prodigall of all Deare grace,
As Nature was in making Graces deare,
When she did starve the generall world beside,
And prodigally gave them all to you.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Good L. Boyet, my beauty though but meane,
Needes not the painted florish of your praise:
Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye,
Not uttred by base sale of chapmens tongues:
I am lesse proude to heare you tell my worth,
Then you much willing to be counted wise,
In spending your Wit in the praise of mine.
But now to taske the tasker, good Boyet,
You are not ignorant all telling fame
Doth noise abroad Navarre hath made a Vow,
Till painefull study shall outweare three yeeres.
No Woman may approch his silent Court:
Therefore to's seemeth it a needfull course,
Before we enter his forbidden gates,
To know his pleasure, and in that behalfe
Bold of your worthines, we single you,
As our best moving faire soliciter:
Tell him, the Daughter of the King of France
On serious busines craving quicke dispatch,
Importuous personall conference with his grace.
Haste, signify so much while we attende,
Like humble visage Suters his high will.
 
Boyet.
Proud of imployment, willingly I go.
 
Exit Boyet
 
Princesse.
All pride is willing pride, and yours is so:
Who are the Votaries my loving Lordes, that are vowfel-
lowes with this vertuous Duke?
 
Lorde.
Longavill is one.
 
Princesse.
Know you the man?
 
1. Lady [Maria].[40]
I know him Maddame at a marriage feast,
Betweene L. Perigort and the bewtious heire
Of Iaques Fauconbridge solemnized.
In Normandy saw I this Longavill,
A man of soveraigne peerlesse he is esteemd:
Well fitted in artes, glorious in armes:
Nothing becoms him ill that he would well.
The onely soile of his faire vertues glose,
If vertues glose will staine with any soile,
Is a sharpe Wit matcht with too blunt a Will:
Whose edge hath power to cut whose will still wils,
It should none spare, that come within his power.
 
Princesse.
Some merry mocking Lord belike, ist so?
 
1. Lady [Maria].
They say so most, that most his humors know.
 
Princesse.
Such short lived wits do wither as they grow.
Who are the rest?
 
2. Lady [Katherine].[41]
The young Dumaine, a well accomplisht youth,
Of all that Vertue love, for Vertue loved.
Most power to do most harme, 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 Alansoes once,
And much too little of that good I saw,
Is my report to his great worthines.
 
3. Lady [Rosaline].[42]
An other of these Studentes at that time,
Was there with him, if I have heard a trueth.
Berowne they call him, but a merrier man,
Within the limit of becomming mirth,
I never spent an houres talke withall.
His eye begets occasion for his wit,
For every obiect that the one doth catch,
The other turnes to a mirth-mooving jest.
Which his faire tongue (conceites expositor)
Delivers in such apt and gracious wordes,
That aged eares play trevant at his tales.
And younger hearinges are quite ravished.
So sweete and voluble is his discourse.
 
Princesse.
God blesse my Ladies, are they all in love?
That every one her owne hath garnished,
With suchbedecking ornaments of praise.
 
Lord.
Heere comes Boyet.
 
Enter Boyet.
 
Princesse.
Now, What admittance Lord?
 
Boyet.
Navarre had notice of your faire approch,
And he and his compettitours in oth,
Were all addrest to meete you gentle Lady
Before I came: Marry thus much I have learnt,
He rather meanes to lodge you in the feelde,
Like one that comes heere to besiedge his Court,
Then seeke a dispensation for his oth:
To let you enter his unpeeled house.
 
Enter Navarre, Longavill, Dumaine, & Berowne.
 
Boyet.
Heere comes Navarre
 
Navarre [=Ferdinand]
Faire Princesse, Welcome to the court of Navarre
 
Princesse.
Faire I give you backe againe, and welcome I have
not yet: the roofe of this Court is too high to be yours, and
welcome to the wide fieldes too base to be mine.
 
Navarre [=Ferdinand].
You shalbe welcome Madame to my Court.
 
Princesse.
I wilbe welcome then, Conduct me thither.
 
Navarre [=Ferdinand].
Heare me deare Lady, I have sworne an oth,
 
Princesse.
Our Lady helpe my Lord, he'le be forsworne.
 
Navarre [=Ferdinand].
Not for the worlde faire Madame, by my will.
 
Princesse.
Why, will shall breake it will, and nothing els.
 
Navarre [=Ferdinand].
Your Ladishyp is ignoraunt what it is.
 
Princesse.
Were my Lord so, his ignoraunce were wise,
Where now his knowledge must prove ignorance.
I heare your grace hath sworne out Houskeeping:
Tis deadly sinne to keepe that oath my Lord,
And sin to breake it: but pardon me, I am too sodaine bold,
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth mee.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my comming,
And sodainely resolve mee in my suite.
 
Navarre [=Ferdinand].
Madame I will, if sodainely I may.
 
Princesse.
You will the sooner that I were away,
For youle prove periurde if you make me stay.
 
Berowne.
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
 
Katherine.[43]
Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
 
Berowne.
I know you did.
 
Katherine.
How needles was it then to aske the question?
 
Berowne.
You must not be so quicke.
 
Katherine.
Tis long of you that spur me with such questions.
 
Berowne.
Your wit's too hot, it speedes too fast, twill tire.
 
Katherine.
Not till it leave the rider in the mire.
 
Berowne.
What time a day?
 
Katherine.
The houre that fooles should aske.
 
Berowne.
Now faire befall your maske.
 
Katherine.
Faire fall the face it covers.
 
Berowne.
And send you many lovers.
 
Katherine.
Amen, so you be none.
 
Berowne.
Nay then will I be gon.
 
Ferdinand.
Madame, your father heere doth intimate,
The payment of a hundred thousand Crownes[44],
Being but the one halfe of, of an intire summe,
Disbursed by my father in his warres.
But say that he, or we, as neither have
Receivd that summe, yet there remaines unpaide
A hundred thousand more, in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitaine is bound to us,
Although not valved to the monies worth.
If then the King your father will restore,
But that one halfe which is unsatisfied,
We will give up our right in Aquitaine,
And holde faire faiendship with his Majesty,
But that it seemes he little purposeth:
For here he doth pemaund to have repaide,
A hundred thousand Crownes, and not demaunds
One paiment of a hundred thousand Crownes,
To have his title live in Aquitaine.
Which we much rather had depart withall,
And have the money by our father lent,
Then Aquitaine, so guelded as it is.
Deare Princesse were not his requestes so farr
From reasons yeelding, your faire selfe should make
A yeelding gainst some reason in my brest,
And go well satisfied to France againe.
 
Princesse.
You do the King my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so unseeming to confesse receit,
Of that which hath so faithfully been paide.
 
Ferdinand.
I do protest I never heard of it:
And if you prove it, Ile repay it backe,
Or yeelde up Aquitaine.
 
Princesse.
We arrest your worde.
Boyet you can produce acquittances,
For such a summe from speciall officers,
Of Charles his father.
 
Ferdinand.
Satisfy mee so.
 
Boyet.
So please your Grace, the packet is not come,
Where that and other specialties are bound:
To morrow you shall have a sight of them.
 
Ferdinand.
It shall suffise me; at which enterview,
All liberall reason I will yeelde unto.
Meane time receive such welcome at my hand,
As honor (without breach of honor) may,
Make tender of to thy true worthines.
You may not come (fair Princesse) within my gates,
But here without you shalbe so receivde,
As you shall deeme your selfe lodgd in my hart.
Though so denide faire harbour in my house,
Your owne good thoughtes excuse me, and farewell.
To morow shall we visite you againe.
 
Princesse.
Sweete health and faire desires confort your grace.
 
Navarre [=Ferdinand].
Thy owne wish wish I thee in every place.
Exit.
 
Berowne.
Lady I will commend you to my owne hart.
 
Rosaline.
Pray you, do my commendations, I would be glad to see it.
 
Berowne.
I would you heard it grone.
 
Rosaline.
Is the foole sicke.
 
Berowne.
Sicke at the hart.
 
Rosaline.
Alacke, let it blood.
 
Berowne.
Would that do it good?
 
Rosaline.
My Phisicke saies I.
 
Berowne.
Will you prickt with your eye.
 
Rosaline.
No point, with my knife.
 
Berowne.
Now God save thy life.
 
Rosaline.
And yours from long living.
 
Berowne.
I cannot stay thankes-giving.
 
Exit.
Enter Dumaine.
 
Dumaine.
Sir, I pray you a word, What Lady is that same?
 
Boyet.
The heire of Alanson, Rosalin her name.
 
Dumaine.
A gallant Lady Mounsir, fare you wel.
 
Exit.
 
Longavill.
I beseech you a word, What is she in the white?
 
Boyet.
A woman sometimes, and you saw her in the light.
 
Longavill.
Perchance light in the light. I desire her name?
 
Boyet.
She hath but one for her selfe, to desire that were a shame.
 
Longavill.
Pray you sir, Whose daughter?
 
Boyet.
Her mothers, I have heard.
 
Longavill.
Gods blessing on your beard.
 
Boyet.
Good sir be not offended, She is an heire of Falconbridge.
 
Longavill.
Nay my coller is ended. She is a most sweet Lady.
 
Boyet.
Not unlike sir, that may be.
 
Exit Longavill
 
Enter Berowne.
 
Berowne.
Whats her name in the capp?
 
Boyet.
Katherin by good happ.
 
Berowne.
Is she wedded or no?
 
Boyet.
To her will sir, or so.
 
Berowne.
O you are welcome sir, adew.
 
Boyet.
Farewell to me sir, and welcome to you.
 
Exit Berowne
 
Lady Maria.
That last is Berowne, the merry madcap L.
Not a word with him but a jest.
 
Boyet.
And every jest but a word.
 
Princesse.
It was well done of you to take him at his word.
 
Boyet.
I was as willing to grapple as he was to boord.
 
Lady Katherine.
Two hot Sheepes mary.
 
Boyet.
And wherefore not Shipps?
No Sheepe (sweete Lambe) unlesse we feede on your lippes.
 
Lady [Katherine].
You Sheepe and I pasture: shall that finish the jest?
 
Boyet.
So you graunt pasture for me.
 
Lady [Katherine].
Not so gentle Beast.
My lippes are no Common, though severall they be.
 
Boyet.
Belonging to whom?
 
Lady [Katherine].
To my fortunes and mee.
 
Princesse.
Good witts will be iangling, but gentles agree,
This civill warre of wittes were much better used
On Navarre and his Bookmen, for heere tis abused.
 
Boyet.
If my observation (which very seldome lies)
By the hartes still rethoricke, disclosed with eyes.
Deceave me not now, Navarre is infected.
 
Princesse.
With what?
 
Boyet.
With that which we Lovers intitle Affected.
 
Princesse.
Your reason.
 
Boyet.
Why all his behaviours did make their retire,
To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desier.
His hart like an Agot with your print impressed,
Proud with his forme, in his eye pride expressed.
His tongue all impacient to speake and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his ey-sight to bee,
All sences to that sence did make their repaire,
To feele only looking on fairest of faire:
Mee thought all his senses were lokt in his eye,
As Iewels in Christall for some Prince to buy.
Who tendring their owne worth from where they were glast,
Did point you to buy them along as you past.
His faces owne margent did coate such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes inchaunted with gazes.
Ile give you Aquitaine, and all that is his,
And you give him for my sake but one loving kisse.
 
Princesse.
Come, to our Pavilion, Boyet is disposde.
 
Boyet.
But to speak that in words, which his ey hath disclosd.
I onely have made a mouth of his ey,
By adding a tongue which I know will not li.
 
Lady.
Thou art an old Love-monger, & speakest skilfully.
 
Lady 2.
He is Cupids Graundfather, and learnes newes of him.
 
Lady 3.
Then was Venus like her mother, for her father is but grim.
 
Boyet.
Do you heare my mad Wenches?
 
Lady
No.
 
Boyet.
What then, do you see?
 
Lady
I, our way to be gone.
 
Boyet.
You are too hard for mee.
 
Exeunt omnes.
 
 
[ACT III. SCENE I. The park]
 
 
Enter Braggart and his Boy.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Warble child, make passionate my sense of hearing[45].
 
Boy.
Concolinel.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Sweete Ayer, go tendernes of yeeres, take this Key,
give enlargement to the Swaine, bring him festinatly hither,
I must imploy him in a letter to my love.
 
Boy.
Maister, will you win your love with a french braule?
 
Braggart [= Armado].
How meanest thou? brawling in French.[46]
 
Boy.
No my complet Maister, but to Iigge off a tune at
the tongues ende, canary to it with your feete, humour it
with turning up your eyelids, sigh a note and sing a note som-
time through the throate, if you swallowed love with singing
love sometime through: nose as if you snufft up love by
smelling love with your hat penthouse like ore the shop of
your eyes, with your armes crost on your thinbellies doblet
like a Rabbet on a spit, or your handes in your pocket like a
man after the olde painting, and keepe not too long in one
tune, but a snip and away: these are complementes, these
are humours, these betray nice wenches that would be be-
traied without these, and make them men of note: do you
note men that most are affected to these.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
How hast thou purchased this experience?[47]
 
Boy.
By my penne of observation.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
But o but o.
 
Boy.
The Hobbie-horse is forgot.[48]
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Calst thou my love Hobbi-horse.
 
Boy.
No Maister, the Hobbi-horse is but a colt, and your
love perhaps, a hackny: But have you forgot your Love?
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Almost I had.
 
Boy.
Necligent student, learne her by hart.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
By hart, and in hart Boy.
 
Boy.
And out of hart Maister: all those three I will prove.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
What wilt thou prove?
 
Boy.
A man, if I live (and this) by, in, and without, upon the
instant: by hart you love her, because your hart cannot come
by her: in hart you love her, because your hart is in love
with her: and out of hart you love her, being out of hart
that you cannot enjoy her.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
I am all these three.
 
Boy.
And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Fetch hither the Swaine, he must carry me a letter.
 
Boy.
A message well simpathisd, a Horse to be embassadoure
for an Asse[49].
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Ha ha, What sajest thou?
 
Boy.
Marry sir, you must send the Asse upon the Horse,
for he is very slow gated: but I go.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
The way is but short, away.
 
Boy.
As swift as Lead sir.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
The meaning pretty ingenius, is not Lead a mettal
heavy, dull, and slow?
 
Boy.
Minnime honest Maister, or rather Maister no.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
I say Lead is slow.
 
Boy.
You are too swift sir to say so.
Is that Lead slow which is fierd from a Gunne?
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Sweete smoke of Rhetorike,
He reputes me a Cannon, and the Bullet thats hee:
I shoote thee at the Swaine.
 
Boy.
Thump then, and I flee.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
A most acute Iuvenall, volable and free of grace,
By thy favour sweete Welkin, I must sigh in thy face:
Most rude melancholy, Valour gives thee place.
My Herald is returnd.
 
Enter Page and Clowne.
 
Page [= Boy].
A wonder Maister, Heers a Costard broken in a shin.[50]
 
Armado.
Some enigma, some riddle, come, thy Lenvoy begin[51].
 
Clowne [=Costard].
No egma, no riddle, no lenvoy, no salve, in thee male sir[52].
O sir, Plantan, a pline Plantan: no lenvoy, no lenvoy, no Salve
sir, but a Plantan[53].
 
Armado.
By vertue thou inforcest laughter, thy silly thought,
my spleene, the heaving of my lunges provokes me to radiculous
smiling: O pardone me my starres, doth the inconsiderate
take salve for lenvoy, and the word lenvoy for a salve?
 
Page [= Boy].
Do the wise thinke them other, is not lenvoy a salve?
 
Armado
No Page, it is an epilogue or discourse to make plaine,
Some obscure presedence that hath tofore bin saine.
I will example it.
The Fox, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
Were still at oddes being but three.
Ther's the morrall: Now the lenvoy.
 
Page [= Boy].
I will adde the lenvoy, say the morrall againe.
 
Armado.
The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
Were still at oddes, being but three.
 
Page [= Boy].
Untill the Goose came out of doore,
And staied the oddes by adding foure.[54]
Now will I begin your morrall, and do you follow with my lenvoy.
The Foxe, the Ape, and the Humble-Bee,
Were still at oddes, being but three.
 
Armado.
Untill the Goose came out of doore,
Staying the oddes by adding foure.
 
Page [= Boy].
A good Lenvoy, ending in the Goose: woulde you desire more?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
The Boy hath sold him a bargaine, a Goose, that's flat.
Sir, your penny-worth is good, and your Goose be fat.
To sell a bargaine well is as cunning as fast and loose:[55]
Let me see a fat Lenvoy, I thats a fat Goose.
 
Armado.
Come hither, come hither: How did this argument begin?
 
Boy.
By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.
Then cald you for the Lenvoy.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
True, and I for a Plantan, thus came your argument in,
Then the boyes fat Lenvoy, the Goose that you bought,
and he ended the market.
 
Armado.
But tel me, How was there a Costard broken in a shin?
 
Page [= Boy].
I will tell you sencibly.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Thou hast no feeling of it Moth, I will speake that Lenvoy.
I Costard running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.
 
Armado.
We will talke no more of this matter.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Till there be more matter in the shin.
 
Armado.
Sirra Costard, I will infranchise thee.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
O marry me to one Francis, I smell some Lenvoy,
some Goose in this.
 
Armado.
By my sweete soule, I meane, setting thee at liberty.
Enfreedoming thy person: thou wert emured, restrained,
captivated, bound.
 
Clown.
True, true, and now you wilbe my purgation,
and let me loose.
 
Armado.
I give thee thy liberty, set thee from durance, and in
lewe thereof, impose on thee nothing but this: Beare this
significant to the countrey Maide Iaquenetta: there is
remuneration, for the best ward of mine honour, is
rewarding my dependants. Moth, follow.
 
Page [= Boy].
Like the sequell I. Signeur Costard adew. Exit.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
My sweete ouce of mans flesh, my in-cony Iew:
Now will I looke to his remuneration.
Remuneration, O that's the latine word for three-farthings[56]:
Three-farthings remu[ner]ration, What's the price of this incle?
i.d. no, Ile give you a remuneration: Why? it carries it re-
muneration: Why? it is a fairer name then French-Crowne.
I will never buy and sell out of this word.
 
Enter Berowne.
 
Berowne.
O my good knave Costard, exceedingly well met.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Pray you sir, How much Carnation Ribbon may
a man buy for a remuneration?
 
Berowne.
O what is a remuneration?
 
Costard.
Mary sir, halfepenny farthing.
 
Berowne.
O, why then threefarthing worth of Silke.
 
Costard.
I thanke your worship, God be wy you.
 
Berowne.
O stay slave, I must employ thee.
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall intreate.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
When would you have it done sir?
 
Berowne.
O this after-noone.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Well, I will do it sir: Fare you well.
 
Berowne.
O thou knowest not what it is.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I shall know sir when I have done it.
 
Berowne.
Why villaine, thou must know first.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I will come to your worship to morrow morning.
 
Berowne.
It must be done this after noone,
Harke slave, it is but this:
The Princesse comes to hunt here in the Parke,
And in her traine there is a gentle Lady:
When tongues speake sweetely, then they name her name,
And Rosaline they call her, aske for her:
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seald-up counsaile. Thar's thy guerdon: goe.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Gardon, O sweete gardon, better then remuneration
a levenpence-farthing better: most sweete gardon. I will
do it sir in print: gardon remuneration.
Exit.
 
Berowne.
O and I forsoth in love, I that have been loves whip?
A very Bedle to a humerous sigh, a Crietick, nay a night-
watch Constable,
A domineering pedant ore the Boy, then whom no mor-
tall so magnificent.
 
This wimpled whining purblind wayward Boy,
This signior Iunios gyant dwarffe, dan Cupid,
Regent of Love-rimes, Lord of folded armes,
Th'annointed soveraigne of sighes and groones:
Liedge of all loyterers and malecontents[57]:
 
Dread Prince of Placcats, King of Codpeeces[58].
Sole Emperator and great generall
Of trotting Parrators (O my litle hart.)
And I to be a Corporall of his fielde,
And weare his coloures like a Tumblers hoope.
 
What? I love, I sve, I seeke a wife,
A woman that is like a Iermane Cloake,
Still a repairing: ever out of frame,
And never going a right, being a Watch:
But being watcht, that it may still go right.
 
Nay to be periurde, which is worst of all:
And among three to love the worst of all,
A whitly wanton, with a velvet brow.
With two pitch balles stucke in her face for eyes.
I and by heaven, one that will do the deede,
 
Though Argus were her eunuch and her garde.
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 dreadfull little might.
 
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, grone,
Some men must love my Lady, and some Ione.
 
 
 
[ACT IV. SCENE I. The park]
 
 
Enter the Princesse, a Forrester, her Ladies, and her Lordes
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Was that the king that spurd his horse so hard,
Against the steepe up rising of the hill?
 
Forrester.
I know not, but I thinke it was not he.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Who ere a was, a showd a mounting minde.
Well Lords, to day we shall have our dispatch,
Ore Saterday we will returne to Fraunce.
Then Forrester my friend, Where is the Bush
That we must stand and play the murtherer in?
 
Forrester.
Heereby upon the edge of yonder Coppice,
A Stand where you may make the fairest shoote.
 
Queene
I thanke my Beauty, I am faire that shoote,
And thereupon thou speakest the fairest shoote.
 
Forrester.
Pardon me Madam, for I meant not so.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
What, what? First praise mee, and againe say no.
O short liu'd pride. Not faire? alacke for woe
 
Forreste.
Yes Madam faire
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Nay, never paint me now,
Where faire is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Heere (good my glasse) take this for telling trew:
Faire payment for foule wordes, is more then dew.
 
Forreste.
No thing but faire is that which you inherrit.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
See see, my beauty wilbe sau'd by merrit.
O heresy in faire, fit for these dayes,
A giving hand, though fowle, shall have faire praise.
But come, the Bow: Now Mercy goes to kill,
And shooting well, is then accounted ill:
Thus will I save my Credite in the shoote,
Now wounding, pitty would not let me doote.
If wounding then it was to shew my skill,
That more for praise, then purpose meant to kill.
And out of question so it is sometimes:
Glory growes guilty of detested crimes,
When for Fames sake, for praise an outward part,
We bend to that, the working of the hart.
As I for praise alone now seeke to spill
The poore Deares blood, that my hart meanes no ill.
 
Boyet.
Do not curst wives hold that selfe-soveraignty
Only for praise sake, when they strive to be
Lords ore their Lordes?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Onely for praise, and praise we may afford,
To any Lady that subdewes a Lord.
 
Enter Clowne.
 
Boyet.
Here comes a member of the common wealth.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
God dig-you-den al, pray you which is the head lady?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Thou shalt know her fellow by the rest that have no heads.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Which is the greatest Lady, the highest?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
The thickest, and the tallest.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
The thickest, and the tallest: it is so, trueth is trueth.
And your waste Mistrs were as slender as my wit,
One a these Maides girdles for your waste should be fir.
Are not you the chiefe woman? You are the thickest heere.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Whats your will sir? Whats your will?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I have a Letter from Monsier Berowne,
to one Lady Rosaline.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
O thy letter, thy letter: He's a good friend of mine.
Stand a side good bearer. Boyet you can carve,
Breake up this Capon.
 
Boyet.
I am bound to serve.
This letter is mistooke: it importeth none heere.
It is writ to Iaquenetta.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
We will reade it, I sweare.
Breake the necke of the Waxe, and every one give eare.
 
Boyet reedes.
By heaven, that thou art faire, is most infallible:
true that thou art beautious, trueth it selfe that
thou art lovely: more fairer then faire, beautifull then beau-
tious, truer then trueth it selfe: have comiseration on thy
heroicall Vassall. The magnanimous and most illustrate
King Cophetua set ey upon the pernicious and indubitare
Begger Zenelophon: and he it is was that might rightly say,
Veni, vidi, vici: Which to annothanize in the vulgar, O base
and obscure vulgar; videliset, He came, See, and overcame:
He came, one; see, two; covercame, three. Who came? the
King.Why did he come? to see. Why did he see? to over-
come. To whom came he? to the Begger. What saw he? the
Begger. Who overcame he? the Begger. The conclusion is
victory: On whose side? the King: the captive is inricht, on
whose side? the Beggers.[59] The catastrophe is a Nuptiall, on
whose side? the Kinges: no, on both in one, or one in both.
I am the King (for so standes the comparison) thou the Beg-
ger, for so witnesseth thy lowlines. Shall I commande thy
love? I may. Shall I enforce thy love? I coulde. Shall I en-
treate thy love? I will. What, shalt thou exchange for raggs
roabes, for tittles tytles, for thy selfe, mee. Thus expecting
thy reply, I prophane my lippes on thy foote, my eyes on
thy picture, and my hart on thy every part[60].
Thine in the dearest designe of industri[61],
Don Adriana de Armatho.
 
Thus dost thou heare the nemean Lion roare,
Gainst thee thou Lambe, that standest as his pray:[62]
Submissive fall his princely feete before,
And he from forrage will incline to play.
But if thou strive (poore soule) what art thou then?
Foode for his rage, repasture for his den.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
What plume of fethers is he that indited this letter?
What vaine? What Wethercock?[63] Did you ever heare better?
 
Boyet.
I am much deceived, but I remember the stile[64].
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Els your memory is bad, going ore it erewhile.
 
Boyet.
This Armado is a Spaniard that keepes here in court,
A Phantasime, a Monarcho[65], and one that makes sport
To the Prince and his Booke-mates.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Thou fellow, a worde.
Who gave thee this letter?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I tolde you, my Lord.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
To whom shouldst thou give it?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
From my Lord to my Lady.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
From which Lord, to which Ladie?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
From my Lord Berowne, a good Maister of mine,
To a Lady of France, that he calde Rosaline.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Thou hast mistaken his letter. Come Lords away.
Here sweete, put up this, twilbe thine annother day.
 
Boyet.
Who is the shooter? Who is the shooter?
 
Rosaline.
Shall I teach you to know.
 
Boyet.
I my continent of beauty.
 
Rosaline.
Why she that beares the Bow. Finely put off.
 
Boyet.
My Lady goes to kill hornes, but if thou marry,
hang me by the necke, if horns that yeere miscarry.
Finely put on.
 
Rosaline.
Well then I am the shooter.
 
Boyet.
And who is your Deare?
 
Rosaline.
If we choose by the hornes, your selfe come not
neare. Finely put on in deede.
 
Maria.
You still wrangle with her Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.
 
Boyet.
But she her selfe is hit lower: Have I hit her now?
 
Rosaline.
Shall I come upon thee with an olde saying, that was
a man when King Pippen of Frannce was a litle boy, as
touching the hit it.[66]
 
Boyet.
So I may answere thee with one as olde that was a
woman when Queene Guinover of Brittaine was a litle wench
as toching the hit it.
 
Rosaline.
Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it,
Thou canst not hit it my good man.
 
Exit.
 
Boyet.
And I cannot, cannot, cannot: and I cannot, an other can.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
By my troth most plesant, how both did fit it.
 
Maria.
A marke marveilous wel shot, for they both did hit.
 
Boyet.
A mark, O mark but that mark: a mark saies my Lady.
Let the mark have a prick in't, to meate at, if it may Berowne
 
Maria.
Wide a'the bow hand, yfaith your hand is out.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Indeed a'must shoot nearer, or hele neare hit the clout.
 
Boyet.
And if my hand be out, then belike your hand is in.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Then will she get the upshoot by cleaving the is in.
 
Maid [=Maria]
Come come, you talke greasely, your lips grow fowle.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Shes to hard for you at pricks, sir challeng her to bowle
 
Boyet.
I feare too much rubbing: good night my good owle.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
By my soule a Swaine, a most simple Clowne.
Lord, Lord, how the Ladies and I have put him downe.
O my troth most sweete jestes, most inconic vulgar wit,
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenly as it were, so fit.
Armatho ath toothen side, o a most dainty man,
To see him walke before a Lady, and to beare her Fann.
To see him kisse his hand, & how most sweetly a wil sweare:
And his Page atother side, that handfull of wit,
Ah heavens, it is most patheticall nit.
Sowla, sowla.
Exeunt.
 
 
[SCENE II. The park]
 
 
 Shoot within.
 
Enter Dull, Holofernes, the Pedant and Nathaniel.[67] 
 
Nathaniel.
Very reverent sport truly, and done in the testimony
of a good conscience.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
The Deare was (as you know) sanguis in blood, ripe
as the Pomwater, who now hangeth like a Iewel in the eare
of Celo the sky, the welken the heaven, & anon falleth like
a Crab on the face of Terra, the soile, the land, the earth.
 
Curate Nathaniel.
Truely M. Holofernes, the epythithes are sweetly varried
like a scholler at the least: but sir I assure ye
it was a Bucke of the first head.
 
Holofernes.
Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.
 
Dull.
Twas not a haud credo, twas a Pricket.
 
Holofernes.
Most barbarous intimation: yet a kind of insinuation,
as it were in via, in a 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 Deare.
 
Dull.
I said the Deare was not a haud credo, twas a Pricket.
 
Holofernes.
Twice sodd simplicity, bis coctus, O thou monster
ignorance, How deformed doost thou looke.
 
Nathaniel.
Sir he hath never fed of the dainties that are bred in a booke.
He hath not eate paper as it were: he hath not drunke inck.
His intellect is not replenished, he is only an annimall, only
sensible in the duller partes: and such barren plantes are
set before us, that we thankful should be: which we taste,
and feeling, are for those partes that doe fructify in us more then he.
For as it would ill become me to be vaine, indistreell, or a foole,
So were there a patch set on Learning, to see him in a schole.
But omne bene say I, being of an olde Fathers minde,
Many can brooke the weather, that love not the winde.
 
Dull.
You two are book-men, Can you tel me by your wit,
What was a month old at Cains birth, that's not five weeks
old as yet?
 
Holofernes.
Dictisima goodman Dull, dictisima goodman Dull.
 
Dull.
What is dictima?
 
Nathaniel.
A title to Phebe, to Luna, to the Moone.
 
Holofernes.
The Moone was a month old when Adam was no more
And rought not to five-weeks when he came to fivescore.
Th'allusion holdes in the Exchange.
 
Dull.
Tis true in deede, the Collusion holdes in the Exchange.
 
Holofernes.
God comfort thy capacity, I say th'allusion holdes
in the Exchange.
 
Dull.
And I say the polusion holdes in the Exchange: for
the Moone is never but a month olde: and I say beside
that, twas a Pricket that the Princesse kild.
 
Holofernes.
Sir Nathaniel, will you heare an extemporall Epytaph
on the death of the Deare, and to humour the ignorault
cald the Deare: the Princesse kild a Pricket.
 
Nathaniel.
Perge, good M. Holofernes perge, so it shall please
you to abrogate squirility [scurility].
 
Holofernes.
I wil somthing affect the letter, for it argues facility.
The prayfull Princesse pearst and prickt
a pretty pleasing Pricket[68],
Some say a Sore, but not a sore,
till now made sore with shooting.
The Dogges did yell, put ell to Sore,
then Sorell iumps from thicket:
Or Pricket-sore, or els Sorell,
the people fall a hooting.
If Sore be sore, then el to Sore,
makes fifty sores o sorell:
Of one sore I an hundred make
by adding but one more l.
 
Nathaniel.
A rare talent.
 
Dull.
If a talent be a claw, looke how he clawes him with a talent.[69]
 
{Nathaniel} =Holofernes.
This is a gift that I have simple: simple, a foolish
extravagant spirit, full of formes, figures, shapes, obiectes,
Ideas, aprehentions, motions, revolutions. These are begot in
the ventricle of Memory, nourisht in the wombe of primater [pia mater],
and delivered upon the mellowing of occasion: But the gift
is good in those whom it is acute, and I am thankfull for it.
 
{Holofernes} = Nathaniel.
Sir, I praise the L. for you, and so may my parishioners,
for their Sonnes are well tutord by you, and their
Daughters profite very greatly under you: you are a good
member of the common wealth.
 
{Nathaniel} =Holofernes.
Me hercle [by Hercules!], if their Sonnes be ingenous, they shal want no
instruction: If their Daughters be capable, I will put it to them.
But Vir sapis[sapit]qui pauca loquitur[the man is wise who talks little],
a soule Feminine saluteth us.
 
Enter Iaquenetta and the Clowne.
 
Iaquenetta.
God give you good morrow M. Person.
 
Nathaniel.
Maister Person, quasi Person? And if one shoulde
be perst[70], Which is the one?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Marry M. Scholemaster, he that is liklest to a hoggshead.
 
Nathaniel.
Of persing a Hogshead, a good luster of conceit[71]
in a turph of Earth, Fier enough for a Flint, Pearle enough
for a Swine: tis pretty, it is well.
 
Iaquenetta.
Good M. Parson be so good as read me this letter,
it was geven me by Costard, and sent me from Don Armatho:
I beseech you read it.
 
Nathaniel.
Facile precor gellida, quando pecas omnia sub umbra ruminat[72],
and so foorth. Ah good olde Mantuan, I may speake
of thee as the traveiler doth of Venice,
vemchie, vencha, que non te unde, que non te perreche[73]
Olde Mantuan, olde Mantuan,
Who understandeth thee not, loves thee not, ut re sol la mi fa:
Under pardon sir, What are the contentes? or rather as Herrace
sayes in his, What my soule verses.
 
Holofernes.
I sir, and very learned.
 
Nathaniel.
Let me heare a staffe, a stanze, a verse, Lege domine.
 
If Love make me forsworne, how shall I sweare to love?
Ah never sayth could hold, if not to beauty vowed.
Though to my selfe forsworne, to thee Ile faythfull prove.
Those thoughts to me were Okes, to thee like Ofiers bowed
Study his byas leaves, and makes his booke thine eyes.
Where all those pleasures live, that Art would comprehend.
If knowledge be the marke, to know thee shall suffise.
Well learned is that tongue, that well can thee commend.
All ignorant that soule, that sees thee without wonder.
Which is to mee some praise, that I thy partes admire,
Thy ey Ioves lightning beares, thy voyce his dreadful th~uder
Which not to anger bent, is musique, and sweete fier.
Celestiall as thou art, Oh pardon love this wrong,
That singes heavens praise, with such an earthly tong.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
You finde not the apostraphas, and so misse the
accent. Let me supervise the cangenet.
 
Nathaniel.
Here are onely numbers ratefied, but for the elegancy,
facility, and golden cadence of poesy caret: Oviddius
Naso was the man. And why in deed Naso, but for smelling
out the odoriferous flowers of fancie?[74] the ierkes of invention
imitary is nothing: So doth the Hound his maister,
the Ape his keeper, the tired Horse his rider: but Damosella
virgin, Was this directed to you?
 
Jaquenetta.
I sir from one mounsier Berowne, one of the strange Queenes Lordes.
 
Nathaniel.
I will overglaunce the superscript.
To the snow-white hand of the most bewtious Lady Rosaline.
I will looke againe on the intellect of the letter, for the no-
mination of the party written to the person written unto.
Your Ladiships in all desired imployment, Berowne.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Sir {Holofernes}, this Berowne is one of the Votaries[75]
with the King, and here he hath framed a letter to a sequent
of the stranger Queenes: which accidentally, or by the way
of progression, hath miscarried. Trip and goe my sweete,
deliver this Paper into the royall hand of the King, it may
concerne much: stay not thy complement, I forgive thy
dewty, adue.
 
Maid.
Good Costard go with me: sir God save your life.
 
Costard
Have with thee my girle.
Exit.
 
{Holofernes}  [= Nathaniel].[76]
Sir you have done this in the feare of God very religiously:
and as a certaine Father faith.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Sir tell not mee of the Father, I do feare colourable
coloures. But to returne to the Verses, Did they please you
sir Nathaniel?
 
Nathaniel.
Marveilous well for the pen.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
I do dine to day at the fathers of a certaine pupill of
mine, where if (before repast) it shall please you to gratify
the table with a Grace, I will on my priviledge I have with
the parentes of the foresaid childe or pupill, undertake your
bien venuto, where I will prove those Verses to be very un-
learned, neither savouring of Poetry, wit, nor invention.
I beseech your society.
 
Nathaniel.
And thanke you to: for society (saith the text)
is the happines of life.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
And certes the text most infallibly concludes it.
Sir I do invite you too, you shall not say me nay: pauca verba.
Away, the gentles are at their game, and we will to our
recreation.
 Exeunt.
 
 
[SCENE III. The park]
 
 
Enter Berowne with a paper in his hand, alone.[77]
 
Berowne.
The King he is hunting the Deare, I am coursing my selfe.
They have pitcht a Toile, I am toiling in a pytch, pytch
that defiles; defile, a foule worde: Well, set thee downe
sorrow; for so they say the foole sayd, and so say I, and I the
foole: Well proved wit. By the Lord this Love is as madd
as Aiax, it kills Sheepe, it kills mee, I a Sheepe well prooved
againe a my side. I will not love; if I do hang mee: I 'fayth
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 throate. By heaven I doe
love, and it hath taught me to rime, and to be mallicholy:
and heere is part of my Rime, and heare my mallicholy.
Well, she hath one a'my Sonnets already, the Clowne bore
it, the Foole sent it, and the Lady hath it: sweete Clowne,
sweeter Foole, sweetest Lady. By the worlde, I woulde not
care a pin, if the other three were in. Heere comes one with
a paper, God give him grace to grone.
 
He standes aside. The King entreth.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Ah mee!
 
Berowne.
Shot by heaven, proceed sweet Cupid, thou hast thumpt
him with thy Birdbolt under the left papp: in fayth secrets.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
So sweete a kisse the golden Sunne gives not,
To those fresh morning dropps upon the Rose,
As thy eye beames, when their fresh raise have smot.
The night of dew that on my cheekes downe flowes.
Nor shines the silver Moone one halfe so bright,
Through the transparent bosome of the deepe,
As doth thy face through teares of mine give light:[78]
Thou shinst in every teare that I do weepe,
No drop but as a Coach doth carry thee:
So ridest thou triumphing in my wo.
Do but beholde the teares that swell in me,
And they thy glory through my griefe will show:
But do not love thy selfe, then thou will keepe
My teares for glasses, and still make me weepe.
O Queene of Queenes, how farre doost thou excell,
No thought can thinke, nor tongue of mortall tell.
How shall she know my griefes? Ile drop the paper.
Sweete leaves shade folly. Who is he comes heere?
 
Enter Longavill.
 
The King steps aside.
What Longavill, and reading: listen eare.
 
Berowne.
Now in thy likenesse, one more foole appeare.
 
Longavill.
Ay mee! I am forsworne.
 
Berowne.
Why he comes in like a periure, wearing papers.
 
Longavill.
In love I hope, sweete fellowship in shame.
 
Berowne.
One drunkard loves an other of the name.
 
Longavill.
Am I the first that have been periurd so?
 
Berowne.
I could put thee in comfort, not by two that I know,
Thou makest the triumphery, the corner cap of society,
The shape of Loves Tiburne, that hanges up Simplicity.
 
Longavill.
I feare these stubborne lines lacke power to move.
O sweete Maria, Empresse of my Love,
These numbers will I teare, and write in prose.
 
Berowne.
O Rimes are gardes on wanton Cupids hose,
Disfigure not his Shop.
 
Longavill.
This same shall go. He reades the Sonnet.
 
Did not the heavenly Rethorique of thine eye,
Gainst whom the world cannot holde argument,
Perswade my hart to this false periurie?
Vowes for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A Woman I forswore, but I will prove,
Thou being a Goddesse, I forswore not thee.
My Vow was earthly, thou a heavenly Love.
Thy grace being gainde, cures all disgrace in mee.
Vowes are but breath, and breath a vapoure is.
Then thou faire Sunne, which on my earth doost shine,
Exhalst this vapour-vow in thee it is:
If broken then, it is no fault of mine:
If by mee broke, what foole is not so wise,
To loose an oth, to winn a Parradise?
 
Berowne.
This is the liver veine, which makes flesh a deity.
A greene Goose, a Goddesse, pure pure ydotary.
God amende us, God amende, we are much out a th' way.
 
Enter Dumaine.
 
Longavill.
By whom shall I send this (companie?) Stay.
 
Berowne.
All hid, all hid, an olde infant play,
Like a demy God, here sit I in the sky,
And wretched fooles secrets heedfully ore ey.
More Sacks to the mill. O heavens I have my wish,
Dumaine transformed, foure Woodcocks in a dish.
 
Dumaine.
O most devine Kate.
 
Berowne.
O most prophane coxcombe.
 
Dumaine.
By heaven the woonder in a mortall eye.
 
Berowne.
By earth she is not, corporall, there you lye.
 
Dumaine.
Her Amber heires for soule hath amber coted.
 
Berowne.
An amber colourd Raven was well noted.
 
Dumaine.
As upright as the Ceder.
 
Berowne.
Stoope I say, her shoulder is with child.
 
Dumaine.
As faire as day.
 
Berowne.
I as some dayes, but then no Sunne must shine.
 
Dumaine.
O that I had my wish?
 
Longavill.
And I had mine.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
And mine too good Lord.
 
Berowne.
Amen, so I had mine: Is not that a good word?
 
Dumaine.
I would forget her, but a Fever shee
Raignes in my blood, and will remembred be.
 
Berowne.
A Fever in your blood, why then incision
Would let her out in Saucers, sweete misprision.
 
Dumaine.
Once more Ile reade the Ode that I have writ.
 
Berowne.
Once more Ile marke how Love can varry Wit.
 
Dumaine reads his Sonnet.
On a day, alacke the day:
Love, whose Month is ever May:
Spied a blossome passing faire,
Playing in the wanton aire:
Through the Velvet, leaves the wind,
All unseene, can passage finde:
That the Lover sicke to death,
Wish himselfe the heavens breath.
Aire (quoth he) thy cheekes may blow,
Aire would I might triumph so.
But alacke my hand is sworne,
Nere to plucke thee from thy throne:
Vow alacke for youth unmeete,
Youth so apt to pluck a sweete.
Do not call it sinne in me,
That I am forsworne for thee:
Thou for whom Iove would sweare,
Iuno but an Aethiop were,
And deny himselfe for Iove,
Turning mortall for thy love.
This will I send, and something els more plaine.
That shall expresse my trueloves fasting paine.
O would the King, Berowne, and Longavill,
Were Lovers too, ill to example ill,
Would from my forehead wipe a periurde note:
For none offende, where all alike do dote.
 
Longavill.
Dumaine thy Love is farre from charity,
That in loves griefe desirst society:
You may looke pale, but I should blush I know,
To be ore-hard and taken napping so.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Come sir, you blush: as his, your case is such.
You chide at him, offending twice as much.
You do not love Maria? Longavile,
Did never Sonnet for her sake compile,
Nor never lay his wreathed armes athwart
His loving bosome, to keepe downe his hart.
I have been closely shrowded in this bush,
And markt you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty Rimes, obserude your fashion:
Saw sighes reeke from you, noted well your pashion.
Ay mee sayes one! O Iove the other cryes !
One her haires were Golde, Christal the others eyes.
You would for Parradise breake Fayth and troth,
And Iove for your Love would infringe an oth.
What will Berowne say when that he shall heare
Fayth infringed, which such zeale did sweare.
How will he scorne, how will he spende his wit?
How will he triumph, leape, and laugh at it?
For all the wealth that ever I did see,
I would not have him know so much by mee.
 
Berowne.
Now step I foorth to whip hipocrisy.
Ah good my Liedge, I pray thee pardon mee.
Good hart, What grace hast thou thus to reprove
These Wormes for loving, that art most in love?
Your eyes do make no couches in your teares.
There is no certaine Princesse that appeares.
Youle not be periurde, tis a hatefull thing:
Tush, none but Minstrels like of Sonnetting.
But are you not a shamed? nay, are you not
All three of you, to be thus much ore'shot?
You found his Mote, the King your Mote did see:
But I a Beame do finde in each of three.
O what a Scaene of foolry have I seene,
Of sighes, of grones, of sorrow, and of teene:
O mee, with what strickt patience have I sat,
To see a King transformed to a Gnat.
To see great Hercules whipping a Gigge,
And profound Sallomon to tune a Iigge.
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boyes,
And Crittick Timon laugh at idle toyes.[79]
Where lies thy grief, o tell me good Dumaine?
And gentle Longavill, where lies thy paine?
And where my Liedges? all about the brest.
A Caudle hoa!
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Too bitter is thy jest.
Are we betrayed thus to thy over-view?
 
Berowne.
Not you by mee, but I betrayed to you.
I that am honest, I that holde it sinne
To breake the vow I am ingaged in.
I am betrayed by keeping company
With men like men of inconstancy.
When shall you see mee write a thing in rime?
Or grone for Ione? or spende a minutes time,
In pruning mee when shall you heare that I will praise a
hand, a foote, a face, an eye: a gate, a state, a brow, a brest,
a wast, a legge, a limme.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Soft, Whither a way so fast?
A true man, or a theefe, that gallops so.
 
Berowne.
I post from Love, good Lover let me go.
 
Iaquenetta.
God blesse the King.
 
Enter Iaquenetta and Clowne.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
What present hast thou there?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Some certaine treason.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
What makes treason heere?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Nay it makes nothing sir.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
If it marr nothing neither,
The treason and you goe in peace away togeather.
 
Iaquenetta. 
I beseech your Grace let this Letter be read,
Our person misdoubts it: twas treason he said.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Berowne reade it over
 
He reades the letter.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Where hadst thou it?
 
Iaquenetta.
Of Costard.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Where hadst thou it?
 
Costard.
Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
How now, What is in you? Why dost thou teare it?
 
Berowne.
A toy my Leedge, a toy: your grace needs not feare it.
 
Longavill.
It did move him to passion, & therefore lets heare it.
 
Dumaine.
It is Berownes writing, and heere is his name.
 
Berowne.
Ah you whoreson loggerhead, you were borne to do me shame.
Guilty my Lord, guilty: I confesse, I confesse.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
What?
 
Berowne.
That you three fooles, lackt me foole, to make up the messe.
Hee, hee, and you: and you my Leege, and I,
Are pick-purses in Love, and we deserve to die.
O dismisse this audience, and I shall tell you more.
 
Dumaine.
Now the number is even.
 
Berowne.
True true, we are fower: will these turtles be gon?
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Hence sirs, away.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Walke aside the true folke, and let the traytors stay.
 
Berowne.
Sweete Lords, sweete Lovers, O let us imbrace,
As true we are as flesh and blood can be,
The Sea will ebb and flow, heaven shew his face:
Young blood doth not obay an olde decree.
We can not crosse the cause why we were borne:
Therefore of all handes must we be forsworne.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
What, did these rent lines shew some love of thine?
 
Berowne.
Did they quoth you? Who sees the heavenly Rosaline.
That (like a rude and savadge man of Inde.)
At the first opning of the gorgious East,
Bowes not his vassall head, and strooken blind.
Kisses the base ground with obedient breast.
What peromptory Eagle-sighted eye
Dares looke upon the heaven of her brow,
That is not blinded by her majestie?
 
King [= Ferdinand].
What zeale, what fury, hath inspirde thee now?
My Love (her Mistres) is a gracious Moone,
Shee (an attending Starre) scarce seene a light.
 
Berowne.
My eyes are then no eyes, nor I Berowne.
O, but for my Love, day would turne to night,
Of all complexions the culd soveraignty,
Do meete as at a faire in her faire cheeke,
Where severall worthies make one dignity,
Where nothing wantes, that want it selfe doth seeke.
Lend me the florish of all gentle tongues,
Fy painted Rethoricke, O shee needes it not,
To thinges of sale, a sellers praise belonges:
She passes praise, then praise too short doth blot.
A witherd Hermight fivescore winters worne,
Might shake off fifty, looking in her eye:
Beauty doth varnish Age, as if new borne,
And gives the Crutch the Cradles infancy.
O tis the Sunne that maketh all thinges shine.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
By heaven, thy Love is blacke as Ebony.
 
Berowne.
Is Ebony like her? O word devine!
A wife of such wood were felicity.
O who can give an oth? Where is a booke?
That I may sweare Beauty doth beauty lacke,
If that she learne not of her eye to looke:
No face is faire that is not full so blacke.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
O paradox, Blacke is the badge of Hell,
The hue of dungions, and the Schoole of night[80]:
And beauties crest becomes the heavens well.
 
Berowne.
Divels soonest tempt resembling spirites of light.
O if in blacke my Ladies browes be deckt,
It mournes, that painting usurping haire
Should ravish dooters with a false aspect:
And therefore is she borne to make blacke faire.
Her favour turnes the fashion of the dayes,
For native blood is counted painting now:
And therefore redd that would avoyde dispraise,
Paintes it selfe blacke, to imitate her brow.
 
Dumaine.
To looke like her are Chimnie-sweepers blake.
 
Longavill.
And since her time are Colliers counted bright.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
And Aethiops of their sweet complexion crake.
 
Dumaine.
Darke needes no Candles now, for darke is light.
 
Berowne.
Your Mistresses dare never come in raine,
For feare their colours should be washt away.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Twere good yours did: for sir to tell you plaine,
Ile finde a fairer face not washt to day.
 
Berowne.
Ile prove her faire, or talke till doomse-day heere.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
No Divel will fright thee then so much as shee.
 
Dumaine.
I never knew man holde vile stuffe so deare.
 
Longavill.
Looke, heer's thy love, my foote and her face see.
 
Berowne.
O if the streetes were paved with thine eyes,
Her feete were much too dainty for such tread.
 
Dumaine.
O vile, then as she goes what upward lies?
The streete should see as she walkt over head.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
But what of this, are we not all in love?
 
Berowne.
O nothing so sure, and thereby all forsworne.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Then leave this chat, and good Berowne now prove
Our loving lawfull, and our fayth not torne.
 
Dumaine.
I mary there, some flattery for this evill.
 
Longavill.
O some authority how to proceede,
Some tricks, some quillets, how to cheate the divell.
 
Dumaine.
Some salve for perury.
 
Berowne.
O tis more then neede.
Have at you then affections men at armes,
Consider what you first did sweare unto:
To fast, to study, and to see no woman:
Flat treason gainst the kingly state of youth.
Say, Can you fast? your stomacks are too young:
And abstinence ingenders maladies.
{And where that you have vowd to study (Lordes) [81] 
In that each of you have forsworne his Booke.
Can you still dreame and poare and thereon looke.
For when would you my Lord, or you, or you,
Have found the ground of Studies excellence,
Without the beauty of a womans face?
From womens eyes this doctrine I derive,
They are the Ground, the Bookes, the Achadems,
From whence doth spring the true Promethean fire.
Why universall plodding poisons up
The nimble spirites in the arteries,
As motion and long during action tires
The sinnowy vigour of the travailer.
Now for not looking on a womans face,
You have in that forsworne the use of eyes:
And study too, the causer of your vow.
For where is any Authour in the worlde,
Teaches such beauty as a womas eye:
Learning is but an adiunct to our selfe,
And where we are, our Learning likewise is.
Then when our selves we see in Ladies eyes,
With our selves.
Do we no likewise see our learning there?}
O we have made a Vow to study, Lordes,
And in that Vow we have forsworne our Bookes:
For when would you (my Leedge) or you, or you?
In leaden contemplation have found out
Such fiery Numbers as the prompting eyes,
Of beautis tutors have inritcht you with:
Other slow Artes intirely keepe the braine:
And therefore finding barraine practizers,
Scarce shew a harvest of their heavy toile.
But Love first learned in a Ladies eyes,
Lives not alone emured in the braine:
But with the motion of all elamentes,
Courses as swift as thought in every power,
And gives to every power a double power,
Above their functions and their offices.
It addes a precious seeing to the eye:
A Lovers eyes will gaze an Eagle blinde.
A Lovers eare will heare the lowest sound.
When the suspitious head of theft is stopt.
Loves feeling is more soft and sensible,
Then are the tender hornes of Cockled Snailes.
Loves tongue proves dainty, Bachus grosse in taste,
For Valoure, is not Love a Hercules?
Still c liming trees in the Hesperides.
Subtit as Sphinx, as sweete and musicall,
As bright Appolos Lute, strung with his haire.
And when Love speakes, the voyce of all the Goddes,
Make heaven drowsy with the harmony.
Never durst Poet touch a pen to write,
Untill his Incke were tempred with Loves sighes:
O then his lines would ravish savage eares,
And plant in Tyrants milde humility.
From womens eyes this doctrine I derive.
They sparcle still the right promethean fier,
They are the Bookes, the Artes, the Achademes,
That shew, containe, and nourish all the worlde.
Els none at all in ought proves excellent.
Then fooles you were, these women to forsweare:
Or keeping what is sworne, you will prove fooles,
For Wisedomes sake, a worde that all men love:
Or for Loves sake, a worde that loves all men.
Or for Mens sake, the authour of these Women:
Or Womens sake, by whom we Men are Men.
Lets us once loose our othes to find our selves,
Or els we loose our selves, to keepe our othes:
It is Religion to be thus forsworne.
For Charity it selfe fulfilles the Law:
And who can sever Love from Charity.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Saint Cupid then and Souldiers to the fielde.
 
Berowne.
Advaunce your standars, and upon them Lords.
Pell, mell, downe with them: but be first advisd,
In conflict that you get the Sunne of them.
 
Longavill.
Now to plaine dealing. Lay these glozes by,
Shall we resolve to woe these girles of Fraunce?
 
King [= Ferdinand].
And winn them too, therefore let us devise,
Some enterteinment for them in their Tentes.
 
Berowne.
First from the Parke let us conduct them thither,
Then homeward every man attach the hand
Of his faire Mistres, in the afternoone
We will with some strange pastime solace them:
Such as the shortnesse of the time can shape,
For Revels, Daunces, Maskes, and merry houres,
Forerunne faire Love, strewing her way with flowers.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Away, away, no time shalbe omitted,
That will be time and may by us befitted.
 
Berowne.
Alone alone sowed Cockell, reapt no Corne,
And Iustice alwayes whirles in equall measure:
Light Wenches may prove plagues to men forsorne,
If so our Copper byes no better treasure.
 
 
 
[ACT V. SCENE I. The park]
 
 
Enter the Pedant, the Curate, and Dull.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Satis quid sufficit.[82]
 
Curate [= Nathaniel].
I praise God for you sir, your reasons at Dinner
have been sharpe & sententious: pleasant without scurillity,
witty without affection, audatious without impudency,
learned without opinion, and strange without heresy: I did
converse this quondam day with a companion of the kings,
who is intituled, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de Armatho.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Novi hominum tanquam te [83],
His humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory: his tongue filed,
his eye ambitious, his gate majesticall, and his generall behaviour vaine,
rediculous, & thrasonicall. He is too picked, so spruce, too affected,
so od as it were, too peregrinat as I may call it.[84]
 
Curate [= Nathaniel].
A most singuler and choyce Epithat,
 
Draw-out his Table-booke.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
He draweth out the thred of his verbosity, finer
then the staple of his argument[85]. I abhorre such phanatticall
phantasims, such insociable and point devise companions,
such rackers of ortagriphy, as to speake dout fine, when he
should say doubt; det, when he shold pronounce debt; d e b 't,
not det: he clepeth a Calfe, Caufe: halfe, haufe: neighbour
vocatur nebour; neigh abreviated ne: this is abhominable,
which he would call abbominable, it insinuareth me of
infamy [insany]: ne inteligis domine, to make
frantique lunatique?
 
Curate [= Nathaniel].
Laus deo, bene intelligo.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Bome boon for boon prescian, a litle scratcht, twil serve.[86]
 
Enter Braggart, Boy.
 
Curate [= Nathaniel].
Vides ne quis venit?
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Video, et gaudio.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Chirra.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Quari Chirra, not Sirra?
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Men of peace well incontred .
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Most millitary sir salutation.
 
Boy.
They have been at a great feast of Languages, and
stolne the scraps.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
O they have livd long on the almsbasket of wordes.
I marvaile thy M. hath not eaten thee for a worde, for thou
art not so long by the head as honorificabilitudinitatibus[87]:
Thou art easier swallowed then a flapdragon.
 
Page [= Boy].
Peace, the peale begins.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Mounsier, are you not lettred?
 
Page [= Boy].
Yes yes, he teaches boyes the Horne-booke: What
is Ab speld backward with the horne on his head?
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Ba, puericia with a horne added.
 
Page [= Boy].
Ba most seely Sheepe, with a horne: you heare his learning.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Quis quis thou Consonant?
 
Page [= Boy].
The last of the five Vowels if You repeate them, or the fifth, if I.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
I will repeat them: a e I.
 
Page [= Boy].
The Sheepe, the other two concludes it o u[88].
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Now by the sault wave of the meditaranium, a
sweete tutch, a quicke venewe of wit, snip snap[89], quicke and
home, it rejoyceth my intellect, true wit.
 
Page [= Boy].
Offerd by a childe to an old man: which is wit-old.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
What is the figure? What is the figure?
 
Page [= Boy].
Hornes.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Thou disputes like an Infant: goe whip thy Gigg.
 
Page [= Boy].
Lende me your Horne to make one, and I will whip
about your Infamy unum cita a gigge of a Cuckolds horne.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
And had I but one peny in the world thou shouldst
have it to buy Ginger bread[90]: Holde, there is the verie
Remuneration I had of thy Maister, thou halfepenny
purse of wit, thou Pidgin-egge of discretion.[91] O and the
heavens were so pleased, that thou wert but my Bastard;
What a joyull father wouldest thou make me?
Go to, thou hast it ad dungil at the fingers ends, as they say.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Oh I smell false Latine, dunghel for unguem.[92]
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Arts-man preambulat, we will be singuled from the
barbarous. Do you not educate youth at the Charg-House
on the top of the Mountaine?
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Or Mons the hill.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
At your sweete pleasure, for the Mountaine.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
I do sans question.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Sir, t is the Kings most sweete pleasur & affection,
to congratulate the Princesse at her Pavilion, in the posteriors
of this day, which the rude multitude call the after-noone.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
The posterior of the day, most generous sir, is liable,
congruent, and measurable for the after noone: the worde is
well culd, chose, sweete, & apt I do assure you sir, I do assure.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Sir, the King is a noble Gentleman, and my familier[93],
I do assure ye very good friende: for what is inwarde
betweene us, let it passe. I do beseech thee remember thy
curtesy. I beseech thee appairell thy head: and among other
importunt and most serious designes, and of great import in
deede too: but let that passe for I must tell thee it will
please his Grace (by the worlde) sometime to leane upon
my poor shoulder, and with his royall finger thus dally
with my excrement, with my mustachy[94]: but sweete hart
let that passe. By the world I recount no fable, some certaine
special honours it pleaseth his greatnes to impart to Armado
a Souldier, a man of travaile, that hath seene the worlde[95]: but
let that passe; the very all of all is: but sweet hart, I do implore
secrety, that the King would have me present the Princesse
(sweet chuck) with some delightfull ostentation, or show,
or pageant, or antique, or fierworke: Now understanding
that the Curate and your sweete selfe, are good at such erup-
tions, and sodaine breaking out of mirth (as it were) I have
acquainted you withall, to the ende to crave your assistance.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Sir, you shall present before her the Nine Worthies[96].
{Sir Holofernes}[97], as concerning some entertainement of time,
some show in the posterior of this day, to be rendred by our
assistants the Kinges commaund[98], and this most gallant
illustrate and learned Gentleman, before the Princesse: I say
none so fit as to present the nine Worthies.
 
Curate [= Nathaniel].
Where will you finde men worthy enough to present them?
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Iosua, your selfe, my selfe, and this gallant Gentleman[99] 
Iudas Machabeus; this Swaine (because of his great lim
or joint) shall passe Pompey the great, the Page Hercules.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Pardon sir, error: He is not quantity enough for
that worthies thumbe, he is not so big as the end of his Club[100].
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Shall I have audience? He shall present Hercules
in minority: his enter and exit shalbe strangling a Snake;
and I will have an Apology for that purpose.
 
Page [= Boy].
An excellent device: so if any of the audience hisse,
you may cry, Well done Hercules, now thou crusshest the
Snake: that is the way to make an offence gracious, though
few have the grace to do it.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
For the rest of the Worthies?
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
I will play three my selfe.
 
Page [= Boy].
Thrice worthy Gentleman.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Shall I tell you a thing?
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
We attende.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
We will have, if this fadge not, an Antique.
I beseech you follow.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Via good-man Dull, thou hast spoken no worde all this while.
 
Dull.
Nor understoode none neither sir.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Alone, we will employ thee.
 
Dull.
Ile make one in a daunce, or so: or I will play on
the Taber to the worthies, and let them dance the hey.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Most Dull, honest Dull, to our sport: away.
Exeunt.
 
 
[SCENE II. The park]
 
 
Enter the Ladies.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Sweet hartes we shalbe rich ere we depart,
If Fairings come thus plentifully in.
A Lady walde about with Diamondes: Looke you, what I
have from the loving King.
 
Rosaline.
Madame, came nothing els along with that?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Nothing but this: yes as much love in Rime,
As would be crambd up in asheete of paper
Writ a both sides the leafe, margent and all,
That he was faine to seale on Cupids name.
 
Rosaline.
That was the way to make his god-head Wax:
For he hath been five thousand yeere a Boy.
 
Katherine.
I and a shrowde unhappy gallowes too.[101]
 
Rosaline.
Youle neare be friendes with him, a kild your sister.
 
Katherine.
He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy,
And so she died: had she bin Light like you, of such a mery
nimble stiring spirit, she might a bin Grandam ere she died.
And so may you: For a light hart lives long.
 
Rosaline.
Whats your darke meaning mouce, of this light word?
 
Katherine.
A light condition in a beauty darke.
 
Rosaline.
We neede more light to finde your meaning out.
 
Katherine.
Yole marre the light by taking it in snuffe:
Therefore Ile darkly ende the argument.
 
Rosaline.
Looke what you do, you do it still i'th darke.
 
Katherine.
So do not you, for you are a light Wench.
 
Rosaline.
In deede I waigh not you, and therefore light.
 
Katherine.
You waigh me not, O thats you care not for me.
 
Rosaline.
Great reason: for past care, is still past cure.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Well bandied both, a set of Wit well played.
But Rasaline, you have a Favour too?
Who sent it? and what is it?
 
Rosaline.
I would you knew.
And if my face were but as faire as yours,
My Favour were as great, be witnesse this.
Nay I have Vearses too, I thanke Berowne,
The numbers true, and were the numbring too,
I were the fairest Goddesse on the ground.
I am comparde to twenty thousand fairs.
O he hath drawen my picture in his letter.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Any thing like?
 
Rosaline.
Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Beautious as Incke: a good conclusion.
 
Katherine.
Faire as a text B in a Coppy booke.
 
Rosaline.
Ware pensalls, How? Let me not die your debtor,
My red Dominicall, my golden letter,
O that your face were not so full of Oes.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
A Poxe of that jest, and I beshrow all Shrowes.
But Katherine what was sent to you
From Faire Dumaine?
 
Katherine.
Madame, this Glove.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Did he not send you twaine?
 
Katherine.
Yes Madame: and moreover,
Some thousand Verses of a faithfull Lover.
A hudge translation of hipocrisy,
Vildly compiled, profound simplicity.
 
Maria.
This, and these Pearle, to me sent Longavile
The Letter is too long by halfe a mile.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
I thinke no lesse: Dost thou not wish in hart
The Chaine were longer, and the Letter short.
 
Maria.
I, or I would these handes might never part.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
We are wise girles to mocke our Lovers so.
 
Rosaline.
They are worse fooles to purchase mocking so.
That same Berowne ile torture ere I go.
O that I knew he were but in by th'weeke,
How I would make him fawne, and begge, and seeke,
And wayte the season, and observe the times,
And spend his prodigall wittes in booteles rimes.
And shape his service wholly to my device,
And make him proude to make me proude that jestes,
So perttaunt like would I ore'sway his state,
That he should be my foole, and I his fate.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
None are so surely caught, when they are hatcht,
As Wit turnde Foole, folly in Wisedome hatcht:
Hath Wisedomes warrant, and the helpe of Schoole,
And Wits owne grace to grace a learned Foole.
 
Rosaline.
The blood of youth burnes not with such excesse,
As gravities revolt to wantons Berowne
 
Maria.  
Folly in Fooles beares not so strong a note,
As foolry in the Wise, when Wit doth dote:
Since all the power thereof it doth apply,
To prove by Wit, worth in simplicite.
 
Enter Boyet.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Heere comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
 
Boyet.
O I am stable with laughter, Wher's her Grace?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Thy newes Boyet?
 
Boyet.
Prepare Maddame, prepare.
Arme Wenches arme, incounters mounted are,
Against your Peace Love doth approch, disguisd:
Armed in argumentes, you'll be surprisd.
Muster your Wits, stande in your owne defence,
Or hide your heades like Cowardes, and f li hence.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Saint Dennis to S. Cupid: What are they,
That charge their breath against us? Say scout say.
 
Boyet.
Under the coole shade of a Siccamore,
I thought to close mine eyes some halfe an houre:
When lo to interrupt my purposed rest,
Toward that shade I might beholde addrest,
The King and his companions warely,
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And over hard, what you shall over heare:
That by and by disguisd thy will be heere.
Their Heralde is a pretty knavish Page:
That well by hart hath cond his embassage
Action and accent did they teach him there.
Thus must thou speake, and thus thy body beare.
And ever and anon they made a doubt,
Presence majesticall would put him out:
For quoth the King, an Angell shalt thou see:
Yet feare not thou but speake audaciously.
The boy replied, An Angell is not evill:
I should have feard her had shee been a devill.
With that all laught, and clapt him on the shoulder,
Making the bolde wagg by their praises bolder.
One rubbd his elbow thus, and fleerd, and swore,
A better speach was never spoke before.
Another with his finger and his thume,
Cried via we will doo't come what wil come.
The thirde he caperd and cryed, All goes well.
The fourth turnd on the tooe, and downe he fell:
With that they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zelous laughter so profund,
That in this spleene rediculous appeares,
To checke their folly pashions solembe teares.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
But what, but what, come they to visite us?
 
Boyet.
They do, they do; and are appariled thus,
Like Muscovites, or Russians, as I gesse[102].
Their purpose is to parlee, to court, and daunce,
And every one his Love-feat will advance,
Unto his severall Mistres: which they'le know
By Favours severall, which they did bestow.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
And will they so? the Gallants shalbe taskt:
For Ladies; we will every one be maskt,
And not a man of them shall have the grace
Despight of sute, to see a Ladies face.
Holde Rosaline, this Favour thou shalt weare,
And then the King will court thee for his Deare:
Holde take thou this my sweete, and give mee thine,
So shall Berowne take me for Rosaline.
And change you Favours two, so shall your Loves
Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.
 
Rosaline.
Come on then, weare the Favours most in sight.
 
Katherine.
But in this changing, What is your intent?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
The effect of my intent is to crosse theirs:
They do it but in mockery merement,
And mocke for mocke is onely my intent,
Their severall counsailes they unboosome shall,
To Loves mistooke, and so be mockt withall.
Upon the next occasion that we meete,
With Visages displayde to talke and greete.
 
Rosaline.
But shall we dance, if they desire us toot?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
No, to the death we will not move a foot,
Nor to their pend speach render we no grace:
But while tis spoke each turne away his face.
 
Boyet.
Why that contempt will kill the speakers hart,
And quite diuorce his memory from his part.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Therefore I do it, and I make no doubt,
The rest will ere come in, if he be out.
Theres no such sport, as sport by sport orethrowne:
To make theirs ours, and ours none but our owne.
So shall we stay mocking entended game,
And they wel mockt depart away with shame.
 
Sound Trompet
 
Boyet.
The Trompet soundes, be maskt, the maskers come.
 
Enter Black-moores with musicke, the Boy with a
speach, and the rest of the Lordes disguised.
 
Page [= Boy].
All haile, the richest Beauties on the earth.
 
Berowne.
Beauties no richer then rich Taffata.
 
Page [= Boy].
A holy parcell of the fairest dames that ever turnd their
backes to mortall viewes.
 
 The Ladies turne their backes to him.
 
Berowne.
Their eyes villaine, their eyes.
 
Page [= Boy].
That even turnde their eyes to mortall viewes.
Out-
 
Boyet.
True, out in deede.
 
Page [= Boy].
Out of your favours heavenly spirites vouchsafe
Not to beholde -
 
Berowne.
Once to beholde, rogue.
 
Page [= Boy].
Once to beholde with your Sunne beamed eyes,
With your Sunne beamed eyes.
 
Boyet.
They will not answere to that Epythat.
You were best call it Daughter beamed eyes.
 
Page [= Boy].
They do not marke me, and that bringes me out.
 
Berowne.
Is this your perfectnes? begon you rogue.
 
Rosaline.
What would these stranges?
Know their mindes Boyet.
If they do speake our language, tis our will
That some plaine man recount their purposes.
Know what they would?
 
Boyet.
What would you with the Princes?
 
Berowne.
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
 
Rosaline.
What would they, say they?
 
Boyet.
Nothing but peace, and gentle visitation.
 
Rosaline.
Why that they have, and bid them so be gon.
 
Boyet.
She saies you have it, and you may be gon.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Say to her we have measurd many miles,
To treade a Measure with her on this grasse.
 
Boyet.
They say that they have measurd many a mile,
To tread a Measure with you on this grasse.
 
Rosaline.
It is not so. Aske them how many inches
Is in one mile? If they have measured many,
The measure then of one is easly tolde.
 
Boyet.
If to come hither, you have measurde miles,
 
And many miles: the Princesse bids you tell,
How many inches doth fill up one mile?
 
Berowne.
Tell her we measure them by weery steps.
 
Boyet.
She heares her selfe.
 
Rosaline.
How many weery steps,
Of many weery miles you have ore gone,
Are numbred in the travaile of one Mile?
 
Berowne.
We number nothing that we spend for you,
Our duety is so rich, so infinite,
That we may do it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to shew the sunshine of your face,
That we (like savages) may worship it.
 
Rosaline.
My face is but a Moone, and clouded too.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Blessed are cloudes, to do as such cloudes do.
Vouchsafe bright Moone, and these thy Starrs to shine,
(Those cloudes remooved) upon our watery eyne.
 
Rosaline.
O vaine peticioner, begg a greater matter,
Thou now requests but Mooneshine in the water.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Then in our measure, do but vouchsafe one change,
Thou bidst me begge, this begging is not strange.
 
Rosaline.
Play Musique then: nay you must do it soone.
Not yet no daunce: thus change I like the Moone.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Wil you not daunce? How come you thus estranged?
 
Rosaline.
You tooke the moone at ful, but now shee's changed?
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Yet still she is the Moone, and I the Man.
 
Rosaline.
The musique playes, vouchsafe some motion to it,
Our eares vouchsafe it.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
But your legges should do it.
 
Rosaline.
Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,
Weele not be nice, take handes, we will not daunce.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Why take we handes then?
 
Rosaline.
Onely to part friendes.
Curtsy sweete hartes, and so the Measure endes.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
More measure of this measure be not nice.
 
Rosaline.
We can affoord no more at such a price.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Prise you your selves: What buyes your company?
 
Rosaline.
Your absence onely.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
That can never be.
 
Rosaline.
Then cennot we be bought: and so adue,
Twice to your Visore, and halfe once to you.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
If you deny to daunce, lets holde more chat.
 
Rosaline.
In privat then.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
I am best pleasd with that.
 
Berowne.
White handed Mistres, one sweet word with thee.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Honey, and Milke, and Suger: there is three.
 
Berowne.
Nay then two treyes, an if you grow so nice,
Methegline, Wort, and Malmsey; well runne dice:
There's halfe a dosen sweetes.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Seventh sweete adue, since you can cogg,
Ile play no more with you.
 
Berowne.
One word in secret.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Let it not be sweete.
 
Berowne.
Thou greevest my gall.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Gall, bitter.
 
Berowne.
Therefore meete.
 
Dumaine.
Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
 
Maria.
Name it.
 
Dumaine.
Faire Lady.
 
Maria.
Say you so? Faire Lord, take that for your faire Lady.
 
Dumaine.
Please it you, as much in privat, & ile bid adieu.
 
Maria.
What, was your vizard made without a tongue?
 
Longavill.
I know the reason (Lady) why you aske.
 
Maria.
O for your reason, quickly sir, I long?
 
Longavill.
You have a double tongue within your Maske,
And would afforde my speachles vizard halfe.
 
Maria.
Veale quoth the Dutch-man: is not veale a Calfe?
 
Longavill.
A Calfe faire Lady.
 
Maria.
No, a faire Lorde Calfe.
 
Longavill.
Let's part the word?
 
Maria.
No, Ile not be your halfe:
Take all and weane it, it may prove an Oxe.
 
Longavill.
Loke how you butt your selfe in these sharpe mocks,
Will you give hornes chast Lady? do no so.
 
Maria.  
Then die a Calfe, before your hornes do grow.
 
Longavill.
One word in private with you ere I die.
 
Maria.
Bleat softly then, the Butcher heares you cry.
 
Boyet.
The tongues of mocking Wenches are as keene
As is the Rasors edge invisible:
Cutting a smaller haire then may be seene,
Above the sence of sence so sensible,
Seemeth their conference, their conceites have winges,
Fleeter then Arrowes, bullets wind thought swifter thinges.
 
Rosaline.
Not one word more my Maides, break off, break off.
 
Berowne.
By heaven, all dry beaten with pure scoffe.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Farewel mad Wenches, you have simple wits.
Exeunt.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Twenty adieus my frozen Muskovits.
Are these the breede of Wits so wondered at?
 
Boyet.
Tapers they are with your sweete breaths puft out.
 
Rosaline.
Wel-liking Wits they have grosse grosse, fat fat.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
O poverty in wit, Kingly poore flout.
Will they not (thinke you) hange them selves to night?
Or ever but in vizards shew their faces.
This pert Berowne was out of countnance quite.
 
Rosaline.
They were all in lamentable cases,
The King was weeping ripe for a good word.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Berowne did sweare him selfe out of all suite.
 
Maria.
Dumaine was at my service, and his sword,
No point (quoth I) my servant, straight was mute.
 
Katherine.
Lord Longavill said I came ore his hart:
And trow you what he calde me?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Qualme perhapt.
 
Katherine.
Yes in good faith.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Goe sicknes as thou art.
 
Rosaline.
Well, better wits have worne plaine statute Caps.
But will you heare; the King is my Love sworne.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
And quicke Berowne hath plighted Fayth to me.
 
Katherine.
And Longavill was for my service borne.
 
Maria.
Dumaine is mine as sure as barke on tree.
 
Boyet.
Madame, and pretty mistresses give eare.
Immediatly they will againe be heere,
In their owne shapes: for it can never be,
They will digest this harsh indignity.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Will they returne?
 
Boyet.
They will they will, God knowes,
And leape for joy, though they are lame with blowes:
Therefore change Favours, and when they repaire,
Blow like sweete Roses, in this sommer aire.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
How blow? how blow? Speake to be understood.
 
Boyet.
Faire Ladies maskt, are Roses in their bud:
Dismaskt, their dammaske sweete commixture showne,
Are Angels varling cloudes, or Roses blowne.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Avaunt perplexity, What shall we do,
If they returne in their owne shapes to woe?
 
Rosaline.
Good Madame, if by me youle be advisde,
Lets mocke them still as well knowne as disguisde:
Let us complaine to them what fooles were heare,
Disguisd like Muscovities in shapeles geare:
And wonder what they were, and to what ende
Their shallow showes, and Prologue vildly pende.
And their rough carriage so rediculous,
Should be presented at our Tent to us.
 
Boyet.
Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Whip to our Tents as Roes runs ore land.
Exeunt.
 
Enter the King and the rest.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Faire sir, God save you: Wher's the Princesse?
 
Boyet.
Gone to her Tent. Please it your Majesty com-
maunde me any service to her (thither) ?
 
King [= Ferdinand].
That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
 
Boyet.
I will, and so will she, I know my Lord.
Exit.
 
Berowne.
This fellow peckes up Wit as Pidgions Pease,
And utters it againe when God dooth please.
He is Witts Pedler, and retales his wares:
At Wakes and Wassels, meetings, markets, Faires.
And we that sell by grosse, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
This Gallant pins the Wenches on his sleeve.
Had he bin Adam he had tempted Eve.
A can carve to, and lispe: Why this is hee
That kist his hand, a way in courtisy.
This is the Ape of Forme, Mounsier the nice[103],
That when he playes at Tables chides the Dice
In honorable tearmes; nay he can sing
A meane most meanely, and in hushering.
Mende him who can, the Ladies call him sweete.
The staires as he treades on them kisse his feete.
This is the floure that smiles on every one.
To shew his teeth as white as Whales bone.
And consciences that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honie-tonged Boyet.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
A blister on his sweete tongue with my hart,
That put Armathoes Page out of his part.
 
Enter the Ladies.
 
Berowne.
See where it comes. Behaviour what wert thou?
Till this mad man shewed thee, and what art thou now?
 
King [= Ferdinand].
All haile sweete Madame, and faire time of day.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Faire in all Haile is foule, as I conceave.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Construe my speeches better, if you may.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Then wish me better, I will give you leave.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
We came to visite you, and purpose now,
To leade you to our Court, vouchsafe it then.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
This Feelde shall holde me, and so hold your vow:
Nor God nor I delights in periurd men.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Rebuke me not for that which you provoke:
The vertue of your ey must breake my oth.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
You nickname vertue, vice you should have spoke:
For vertues office never breakes mens troth.
Now by my maiden honour yet as pure,
As the unsallied Lilly I protest,
A worlde of tormentes though I should endure,
I would not yeelde to be your houses guest:
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heavenly Othes vowed with integrity.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
O you have liu'd in desolation heere,
Unseene, unvisited, much to our shame.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Not so my Lord, it is not so I sweare,
We have had pastimes here and pleasant game,
A messe of Russians left us but of late.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
How Madame? Russians?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
I [Ay] in trueth My Lord.
Trim gallants, full of Courtship and of state.
 
Rosaline.
Madame speake true: It is not so my Lord:
My Lady (to the maner of the dayes)
In curtesy gives undeserving praise.
We foure in deede confronted were with foure,
In Russian habite: heere they stayed an houre,
And talkt apace: and in that houre (my Lord)
They did not blesse us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fooles; but this I thinke,
When they are thirsty, fooles would faine have drinke.
 
Berowne.
This jest is dry to me, gentle sweete,
Your wits makes wise thinges foolish when we greete
With eies best seeing, heavens fiery ey:
By light we loose light, your capacity
Is of that nature, that to your hudge stoore,
Wise thinges seeme foolish, and rich thinges but poore.
 
Rosaline.
This proves you wise and rich: for in my ey.
 
Berowne.
I am a foole, and full of poverty.
 
Rosaline.
But that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch wordes from my tongue.
 
Berowne.
O, I am yours and all that I possesse.
 
Rosaline.
All the foole mine.
 
Berowne.
I cannot give you lesse.
 
Rosaline.
Which of the Vizards was it that you wore?
 
Berowne.
Where, when, what Vizard? why demaund you this?
 
Rosaline.
There, then, that Vizard, that superfluous case,
That hid the worse, and shewed the better face.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
We were descried, theyle mock us now downright.
 
Dumaine.
Let us confesse and turne it to a jest.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Amazde my Lord? Why lookes your highnes sad?
 
Rosaline.
Helpe holde his browes, heele sound: why looke you pale?
Sea sicke I thinke comming from Muscovy.
 
Berowne.
Thus pooure the Starres downe plagues for periury.
Can any face of brasse hold longer out?
Heere stand I, Lady dart thy skill at me,
Bruse me with scorne, confound me with a flout.
Thrust thy sharpe wit quite through my ignorance,
Cut me to peeces with thy keene conceit.
And I will wish thee never more to daunce,
Nor never more in Russian habite waite.
O never will I trust to speaches pend,
Nor to the motion of a Schoole-boyes tongue,
Nor never come in vizard to my friend,
Nor woo in rime like a blind harpers songue.
Taffata phrases, silken tearmes precise,
Three pilde Hiberboles, spruce affection:
Figures pedanticall, these sommer flies,
Have blowne me full of maggot ostentation.
I do forsweare them, and I here protest,
By this white Glove (how white the hand God knowes)
Hencefoorth my wooing minde shalbe exprest
In russet yeas, and honest kersy noes.
And to begin Wench, so God helpe me law,
My love to thee is sound, sance cracke or flaw.
 
Rosaline.
Sans, sans, I pray you.
 
Berowne.
Yet I have a tricke,
Of the olde rage: beare with me, I am sicke.
Ile leave it by degrees; soft, let us see,
Write Lord have mercy on us, on those three,
They are infected, in their hartes it lies:
They have the Plague, and caught it of your eyes,
These Lordes are visited, you are not free,
For the Lords tokens on you do I see.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
 
Berowne.
Our states are forfait, seeke not to undoo us.
 
Rosaline.
It is not so, for how can this be true,
That you stand forfait, being those that sue.
 
Berowne.
Peace, for I will not have to doe with you.
 
Rosaline.
Nor shall not, if I do as I intende.
 
Berowne.
Speake for your selves, my wit is at an ende.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Teach us sweet Madame, for our rude transgression
Some faire excuse.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
The fairest is confession.
Were not you here but even now, disguisde?
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Madame, I was.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
And were you well advisde?
 
King [= Ferdinand].
I was faire Madame.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
When you then were heere,
What did you whisper in your Ladies eare?
 
King [= Ferdinand].
That more then all the world, I did respect her.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
When she shall challenge this, you wil reject her.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Upon mine honour no.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Peace peace, forbeare: your Oth once broke, you
force not to forsweare.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Despise me when I breake this oth of mine.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
I will, and therefore keepe it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your eare?
 
Rosaline.
Madame, he swore that he did hold me deare,
As precious ey-sight, and did valve me
Above this Worlde: adding thereto more over,
That he would wed me, or els die my Lover.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
God give thee joy of him: the Noble Lord
Most honourably doth uphold his word.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
What meane you Madame: by my life my troth,
I never swore this Lady such an oth.
 
Rosaline.
By heaven you did; and to confirme it plaine,
You gave me this: but take it sir againe.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
My faith and this, the Princesse I did give,
I knew her by this Iewell on her sleeve.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Pardon me sir, this Iewell did she weare,
And Lord Berowne (I thanke him) is my deare.
What? will you have me, or your Pearle againe?
 
Berowne.
Neither of either: I remit both twaine.
I see the tricke ant: here was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our meriment,
To dash it lik a Christmas Comedy:
Some carry tale, some please-man, some sleight saine:
Some mumble newes, some trencher Knight, some Dick
That smiles, his cheeke in yeeres, and knowes the trick
To make my Lady laugh, when shees disposd:
Tolde our intentes before: which once disclosd,
The Ladies did change Favours; and then wee
Folowing the signes, wood but the signe of shee,
Now to our periury, to add more terror,
We are againe forsworne in will and error.
Much upon this tis: and might not you
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my Ladies foote by'th squier?
And laugh upon the apple of her eie?
And stand betweene her backe sir and the fier,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrilie?
You put our Page out: goe, you are aloude.
Dy when you will, a Smocke shalbe your shroude.
You leere upon me, do you: ther's an ey
Woundes like a leaden sword.
 
Boyet.
Full merely hath this brave nuage, this carreere bin run.
 
Berowne.
Loe, he is tilting straight. Peace, I have don.
 
Enter Clowne.
 
Berowne.
Welcome pure wit, thou partst a faire fray.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
O Lord sir, they would know,
Whether the three Worthis shall come in or no?
 
Berowne.
What, are there but three?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
No sir, but it is vara fine,
For every one pursents three.
 
Berowne.
And three times thrice is nine.
 
Clowne [=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.
 
Berowne
Is not nine.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Under correction sir we know where-untill it doth amount.
 
Berowne.
By Iove, I all wayes tooke three threes for nine.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
O Lord sir, it were pitty you should get your living
by reckning sir.
 
Berowne.
How much is it?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
O Lord sir, the parties themselves, the actors sir
will shew wher-untill it doth amount: for mine owne part, I
am (as thy say, but to parfect one man in one poore man)
Pompion the great sir.
 
Berowne.
Art thou one of the Worthies?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
It pleased them to thinke me worthy of Pompey
the great: for mine owne part I know not the degree of the
Worthy, but I am to stand for him.
 
Berowne.
Goe bid them prepare.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
We wil turne it finely off sir, we wil take some care.  Exit.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Berowne, they will shame us: let them not approch.
 
Berowne.
We are shame proofe my Lord: & tis some policy
To have one show worse then the Kings and his company.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
I say they shall not come.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Nay my good Lord let me ore'rule you now.
That sport best pleases, that doth best know how:
Where zeale strives to content, and the contentes
Dies in the zeale of that which it presentes:
Their forme confounded, makes most forme in mirth,
When great thinges labouring perish in their birth.
 
Berowne.
A right description of our sport my Lord.
 
Enter Bragart.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Annointed, I implore so much expence of thy royal
sweete breath, as will utter a brace of wordes.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Doth this man serve God?
 
Berowne.
Why aske you?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
He speakes not like a man of God his making.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
That is al one my faire sweete hony monarch,
For I protest, the Schoolemaister is exceeding fantasticall,
Too too vaine, too too vaine: but we will put it (as they say)
to Fortuna delaguar [de guerra],
I wish you the peace of mind most royall cupplement.
Exit.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Heere is like to be a good presence of Worthies:
He presents Hector of Troy, the Swaine Pompey the great, the
parish Curate Alexander, Armadoes Page Hercules, the Pedant
Iudas Machabeus[104]: And if these foure Worthies in their first shew thrive,
these foure will change habites, and present the other five.
 
Berowne.
There is five in the first shew.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
You are deceived, tis not so.
 
Berowne.
The Pedant, the Bragart, the Hedge-Priest, the
Foole, and the Boy,
Abate throw at Novum, and the whole world againe,
Cannot picke out five such, take each one in his vaine.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
The Ship is under saile, and heere she coms amaine.
 
Enter Pompey.
 
Clowne [=Costard].  
I Pompey am.
 
Berowne.
You lie, you are not he.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I Pompey am.
 
Boyet.
With Libbards head on knee.
 
Berowne.
Well said old mocker, I must needes be friendes with thee.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I Pompey am, Pompey surnamde the bigge.
 
Dumaine.
The great.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
It is great sir, Pompey surnamd the great.
 
That oft in fielde with Targ and Shield did make my foe to sweat,
And travailing along this coast I heere am come by chaunce,
And lay my Armes before the Leggs of this sweete Lasse of France.
If your Ladishyp would say thankes Pompey, I had done.
 
Lady.
Great thankes great Pompey.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Tis not so much worth: but I hope I was perfect. I
made a litle fault in great.
 
Berowne.
My hat to a halfe-penny, Pompey prooves the best Worthy.
 
Enter Curate for Alexander.
 
Curate.
When in the world I livd, I was the worldes commander:
By East, West, North, and South, I spred my conquering might:
My Scutchion plaine declares that I am Alisander.
 
Boyet.
Your Nose saies no, you are not: for it stands too right.
 
Berowne.
Your nose smels no in his most tender smelling knight.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
The conqueror is dismaid: proceed good Alexander.
 
Curate.
When in the world I lived, I was the worldes commander.
 
Boyet.
Most true, tis right: you were so Alisander.
 
Berowne.
Pompey the great.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Your servant and Costard.
 
Berowne.
Take away the Conqueronr, take away Alisander.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
O sir, you have overthrowne Alisander the Conquerour:
you will be scrapt out of the painted cloth for this.
Your Lion that holdes his Polax sitting on a close stoole,
will be geven to Aiax. He wilbe the ninth Worthy: a Con-
querour, and a feard to speake? Run away for shame Ali-
sander. There ant shall please you a foolish milde man, an
honest man; looke you, and soone dasht. He is a marveilous
good neighbour fayth, and a very good Bowler: but for
Alisander, alas you see how tis a little oreparted, but there
are Worthies a comming will speake their minde in some
other sort.
 
Exit Curate.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Stand aside good Pompey.
 
Enter Pedant for Iudas, and the Boy for Hercules.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Great Hercules is presented by this Impe,
Whose Clubb kilde Cerberus that three headed Canus[105],
And when he was a babe, a childe, a shrimpe,
Thus did he strangle Serpents in his Manus ,
Quoniam, he seemeth in minority,
Ergo, I come with this Appology.
Keepe some state in thy exit, and vanish.
 
Exit Boy.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Iudas I am.
 
Dumaine.
A Iudas?
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Not Iscariot sir. [106]
Iudas I am, ecliped Machabeus.
 
Dumaine.
Iudas Machabeus clipt, is plaine Iudas.
 
Berowne.
A kissing traytour, How art thou proud Iudas?
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Iudas I am.
 
Dumaine.
The more shame for you Iudas.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
What meane you sir?
 
Boyet.
To make Iudas hang him selfe.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
Begin sir, you are my elder.
 
Berowne.
Well folowed, Iudas was hanged on an Elder.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
I will not be put out of countenance.
 
Berowne.
Because thou hast no face.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
What is this?
 
Boyet.
A Cytterne head.
 
Dumaine.
The head of a Bodkin.[107]
 
Berowne.
A deaths face in a Ring.
 
Longavill.
The face of an olde Roman coine, scarce seene.
 
Boyet.
The pummel [pommel] of Caesars Faulchion [falchion: antique sword].
 
Dumaine.
The caru’d-bone face on a Flaske.
 
Berowne.
Saint Georges halfe cheeke in a Brooch.
 
Dumaine.
I [Ay] and in a Brooch of Lead.
 
Berowne.
I [Ay] and worne in the cappe of a Tooth-drawer:
And now forward, for we have put thee in countenance. 
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
You have put me out of countenance.
 
Berowne.
False, we have given thee faces.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
But you have outfaste them all.
 
Berowne.
And thou weart a lion, we would do so.
 
Boyet.
Therefore as he is, an Asse, let him go:[108]
And so adue sweete Iude. Nay, Why dost thou stay?
 
Dumaine.
For the latter ende of his name.
 
Berowne.
For the Asse to the Iude: give it him. Jud-as away.
 
Pedant [=Holofernes].
This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
 
Boyet.
A light for Mounsier Iudas, it growes darke, he may stumble.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Alas poor Machabeus, how hath he bin bayted.
 
Enter Braggart [= Armado].
 
Berowne.
Hide thy head Achilles, here comes Hector in Armes.
 
Dumaine.
Though my mockes come home by me, I will now be merry. 
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.
 
Boyet.
But is this Hector?
 
King [= Ferdinand].
I thinke Hector was not so cleane timberd.
 
Longavill.
His Legge is too bigge for Hectors.
 
Dumaine.
More Calfe certaine[109].
 
Boyet.
No, he is best indued in the small.
 
Berowne.
This cannot be Hector.
 
Dumaine.
Hee's a God or a Painter: for he makes faces.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty,
gave Hector a gift.
 
Dumaine.
A gift Nutmegg.
 
Berowne.
A Lemmon.
 
Longavill.
Stucke with Cloves.
 
Dumaine.
No, cloven.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Peace. The Armipotent Mars, of Launces the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Illion,
A man so breathed, that certaine he would fight; yea,
From morne till night out of his Pavilion.
I am that Flower.
 
Dumaine.
That Mint.
 
Longavill.
That Cullambine.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Sweete Lord Longavill raine thy tongue .
 
Longavill.
I must rather give it the raine: for it runnes against Hector.
 
Dumaine.
[Ay] and Hector's a Greyhound.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
The sweete War-man is dead and rotten,
Sweete chucks beat not the bones of the buried[110]:
When he breathed he was a man:
But I will forward with my device; sweete royalty bestow
on me the sence of hearing.
 
Berowne steps foorth.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Speake brave Hector, we are much delighted.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
I do adore thy sweete Graces Slipper.
 
Boyet.
Loves her by the foote.[111]
 
Dumaine.
He may not by the yarde.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
This Hector far surmounted Hanniball.
The party is gone.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
What meanest thou?
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Faith unlesse you play the honest Troyan, the poore
wench is cast away: shee's quicke, the childe bragges in her
belly already: tis yours.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Dost thou infamonize me among potentates:
Thou shalt die.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Then shall Hector be whipt for Iaquenetta that is
quicke by him, and hangd for Pompey that is dead by him.
 
Dumaine.
Most rare Pompey.
 
Boyet.
Renowned Pompey.
 
Berowne.
Greater then great, great, great, great Pompey: Pompey the hudge.
 
Dumaine.
Hector trembles.
 
Berowne.
Pompey is mooved, more Ates more Atees stir them or stir them on.
 
Dumaine.
Hector will challenge him .
 
Berowne.
I [Ay], if a'have no more mans blood in his belly then wil suppe a Flea.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
By the North Pole I do challenge thee.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
I will not fight with a Pole like a Northren man;
Ile flash, Ile do it by the Sword: I bepray you let me borrow
my Armes againe.
 
Dumaine.
Roome for the incensed Worthies.
 
Clowne [=Costard].
Ile do it in my shirt.
 
Dumaine.
Most resolute Pompey.
 
Page [= Boy].
Maister, let me take you a button hole lower[112] . Do
you not see, Pompey is uncasing for the Combat: What
meane you? you will loose your reputation.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Gentlemen and Souldiers, pardon me, I will not
combat in my shirt[113].
 
Dumaine.
You may not deny it, Pompey hath made the challenge.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Sweete bloodes, I both may and will.
 
Berowne.
What reason have you for’t.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
The naked trueth of it is, I have no Shirt.
I goe Woolward for pennance.[114]
 
Boyet.
True, and it was injoined him in Rome for want of Linnen:
since when, Ile be sworne he wore none, but a dish-cloute
of J aquenettaes[115], and that a weares next his hart for a Favour.
 
Enter a Messenger Mounsier Marcade.
 
Marcade.
God save you Madame.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Welcome Marcade, but that thou interruptest our merriment.
 
Marcade.
I am sorry Madame for the news I bring
is heavy in my tongue. The King your father
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Dead for my life.
 
Marcade.
Even so: my tale is tolde.[116]
 
Berowne.
Worthies away, the Scaene begins to cloude.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
For mine owne part I breath free breath: I have
seene the day of wrong through the litle hole of discretion[117],
and I will right my selfe like a Souldier.
 
Exeunt Worthies
 
King [= Ferdinand].
How fares your Majestie?
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Boyet prepare, I will away to night.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Madame Not so, I do beseech you stay.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Prepare I say: I thanke you gracious Lords
For all your faire endevours and intreat:
Out of a new sad-soule, that you vouchsafe,
In your rich wisedome to excuse, or hide,
The liberall opposition of our spirites,
If overboldly we have borne our selves,
In the converse of breath (your gentlenes
Was guilty of it.) Farewell worthy Lord:
A heavy hart beares not a humble tongue.
Excuse me so comming too short of thankes,
For my great sute, so easely obtainde.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
The extreame partes of time extreamly formes,
All causes to the purpose of his speede:
And often at his very loose decides
That, which long processe could not arbitrate.
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtecy of Love,
The holy suite which faine it would convince,
Yet since Loves argument was first on foote,
Let not the cloude of Sorrow iustle it
From what it purposd, since to waile friendes lost,
Is not by much so holdsome profitable,
As to rejoyce at friendes but newly found.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
I understand you not, my griefes are double.
 
Berowne.
Honest plaine words, best pearce the eare of griefe,
And by these badges understand the King,
For your faire sakes, have we neglected time.
Plaide fouleplay with our othes: your beauty Ladies
Hath much deformed us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed ende of our ententes.
And what in us hath seemed rediculous:
As Love is full of unbefitting straines,
All wanton as a childe, skipping and vaine.
Formd by the eye, and therefore like the eye.
Full of straying shapes, of habites and of formes:
Varying in subiectes as the eye doth roule,
To every varied obiect in his glaunce:
Which party coted presence of loose love
Put on by us, if in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecombd our othes and gravities.
Those heavenly eyes that looke into these faultes,
Suggested us to make, therefore Ladies
Our love being yours, the errour that Love makes
Is likewise yours: we to our selves prove false,
By being once falce, for ever to be true
To those that make us both faire Ladies you.
And even that falshood in it selfe a sinne,
Thus purifies it selfe and turns to grace.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
We have receivd your Letters, full of Love:
Your Favours, embassadours of Love.
And in our maiden counsaile rated them,
At courtshyp pleasant jest and courtecy,
As bombast and as lining to the time:
But more devout then this our respectes,
Have we not been, and therefore met your Loves,
In their owne fashion like a merriment.
 
Dumaine.
Our letters madame, shewed much more then jest.
 
Longavill.
So did our lookes.
 
Rosaline.
We did not cote them so.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Now at the latest minute of the houre,
Graunt us your loves.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
A time me thinkes too short,
To make a world-without-end bargaine in:
No no my Lord, your Grace is periurde much,
Full of deare guiltines, and therefore this,
If for my Love (as there is no such cause)
You will do ought, this shall you do for me:
Your oth I will not trust, but goe with speede
To some forlorne and naked Hermytage,
Remote from all the pleasurs of the world:
There stay untill the twelve Celestiall Signes
Have brought about the annuall reckoning.
If this Austere insociable life,
Change not your offer made in heate of blood.
If frostes and fastes, hard lodging, and thin weedes,
Nip not the gaudy blossomes of your Love:
But that it beare this tryall, and last Love,
Then at the expiration of the yeere,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these desertes:
And by this Virgin palme now kissing thine,
I wilbe thine: and till that instance shutt
My wofull selfe up in a mourning house,
Raining the teares of lamentation,
For the remembraunce of my Fathers death.
If this thou do deny, let our handes part,
Neither intiled in the others hart.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
If this, or more then this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sodaine hand of death close up mine eye.
Hence herrite then my hart, is in thy brest.
 
Berowne.
And what to me my Love? and what to me?
 
Rosaline.
You must be purged to, your sinnes are rackt.
You are attaint with faultes and periury:
Therefore if you my favour meane to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spende and never rest,
But seeke the weery beddes of people sicke.
 
Dumaine.
But what to me my Love? but what to me?
 
Katherine.
A wife? a beard, faire health, and honesty,
With three folde love I wish you all these three.
 
Dumaine.
O shall I say, I thanke you gentle Wife?
 
Katherine.
Not so my Lord, a twelvemonth and a day,
Ile marke no wordes that smothfast wooers say,
Come when the King doth to my Lady come:
Then if I have much love, Ile give you some.
 
Dumaine.
Ile serve thee true and faythfully till then.
 
Katherine.
Yet sweare not, least ye be forsworne agen.
 
Longavill.
What saies Maria?
 
Maria.
At the twelvemonths ende,
Ile change my blacke Gowne for a faithfull frend.
 
Longavill.
Ile stay with patience, but the time is long.
 
Maria.
The liker you, few taller are so young.
 
Berowne.
Studdies my Ladie? Mistres looke on me,
Beholde the window of my hart, mine eye:
What humble suite attendes thy answere there,
Impose some service on me for thy Love.
 
Rosaline.
Oft have I heard of you my Lord Berowne,
Before I saw you: and the worldes large tongue
Proclaimes you for a man repleat with mockes,
Full of comparisons and wounding floutes:
Which you on all estetes will execute,
That lie within the mercy of your wit
To weede this wormewood from your fructfull braine,
And therewithall to winne me, if you please,
Without the which I am not to be won:
You shall this twelvemonth terme from day to day,
Visite the speachlesse sicke, and still converse,
With groning wretches: and your taske shall be,
With all the fierce endevour of your wit,
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
 
Berowne.
To move wilde laughter in the throate of death?
It cannot be, it is impossible.
Mirth cannot move a soule in agony.
 
Rosaline.
Why thats the way to choake a gibing spirrit,
Whose inflvence is begot of that loose grace,
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fooles,
A jestes prosperity lies in the eare,
Of him that heares it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then if sickly eares
Deaft with the clamours of their owne deare grones,
Will heare your idle scornes; continve then,
And I will have you, and that fault withall.
But if they will not, throw away that spirrit,
And I shall finde you empty of that fault,
Right joyull of your reformation.
 
Berowne.
A twelvemonth? well; befall what will befall,
Ile jest a twelvemonth in an Hospitall.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
I sweete my Lord, and so I take my leave.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
No Madame, we will bring you on your way.
 
Berowne.
Our wooing doth not ende like an olde Play:
Iacke hath not Gill: these Ladies courtesy
Might well have made our sport a Comedy.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Come sir, it wants a twelvemonth an'aday,
And then twill ende.
 
Berowne.
That's too long for a Play.
 
Enter Braggart.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Sweete Majesty vouchsafe me.
 
Queene [=Princesse].
Was not that Hector?
 
Dumaine.
The worthy Knight of Troy.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
I will kisse thy royall finger, and take leave.
I am a Votarie; I have vowde to Iaquenetta
To holde the Plough for her sweete love three yeere.
But most esteemed greatnes, will you heare the Dialogue
that the two Learned men have compiled, in praise of the
Owle and the Cuckow? it should have followed in the
ende of our shew.
 
King [= Ferdinand].
Call them foorth quickly, we will do so.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
Holla Approch.
 
Enter all.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
This side is Hiems, Winter.
This Ver, the Spring: The one mainteined by the Owle,
th'other by the Cuckow.
 
Ver begin.
 
  The Song.
 
When Dasies pied, and Violets blew,
And Cuckow-budds of yellow hew:
And Ladi-smockes all silver white,
Do paint the Meadowes with delight:
The Cuckow then on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus singes hee,
Cuckow.
Cuckow, Cuckow: O word of feare,
Unpleasing to a married eare.
When Shepheards pipe on Oten Strawes,
And merry Larkes are Ploughmens Clocks:
When Turtles tread and Rookes and Dawes,
And Maidens bleach their summer smockes:
The Cuckow then on every tree,
Mockes married men, for thus singes he,
Cuckow.
Cuckow, cuckow: O word of feare,
Unpleasing to a married eare.
 
Winter.
 
When Isacles hang by the wall,
And Dicke the Sheepheard blowes his naile:
And Thom beares Logges into the hall,
And Milke coms frozen home in paile:
When Blood is nipt, and wayes be full,
Then nightly singes the staring Owle
Tu-whit to-who.
A merry note,
While greasy Ione doth keele the pot.
When all aloude the winde doth blow,
And coffing drownes the Parsons saw;
And Birdes sit brooding in the Snow,
And Marrians nose lookes red and raw:
When roasted Crabbs hisse in the bowle,
Then nightly singes the staring Owle,
Tu-whit to-who
A merry note,
While greasy Ione doth keele the pot.
 
Braggart [= Armado].
The wordes of Mercury, are harsh after the
songes of Apollo.[118]

 

FINIS.

Source

Notes:

The annotations mainly take into consideration references to the “French marriage” and the quarrel involving Harvey and Nashe and the background thereto. The Arden editions of LLL are otherwise referenced, ed. by R. W. David (1955), or H. R. Woudhuysen (1998).

 

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