Love's Labour's Lost (version 2) - Free Audiobook

000 Scene II. The same.

LLL V. 2 Enter the Princess, Katharine, Rosaline, and Maria.

Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,

If fairings come thus plentifully in:

003 A lady wall’d about with diamonds!

Look you what I have from the loving king.

005 Ros. Madam, came nothing else along with that?

Prin. Nothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme

As would be cramm’d up in a sheet of paper,

008 Writ o’ both sides the leaf, margent and all,

That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name.

010 Ros. That was the way to make his godhead wax,

011 For he hath been five thousand years a boy.

012 Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.

013 Ros. You’ll ne’er be friends with him; a’ kill’d your sister.

Kath. He made her melancholy, sad, and heavy;

015 And so she died: had she been light, like you,

Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,

017 She might ha’ been a grandam ere she died:

And so may you; for a light heart lives long.

Ros. What’s your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?

020 Kath. A light condition in a beauty dark.

Ros. We need more light to find your meaning out.

Kath. You’ll mar the light by taking it in snuff;

Therefore I’ll darkly end the argument.

Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still i’ th’ dark.

025 Kath. So do not you, for you are a light wench.

Ros. Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.

Kath. You weigh me not?—O, that’s you care not for me.

028 Ros. Great reason; for ‘past cure is still past care.’

Prin. Well bandied both; a set of wit well play’d.

030 But, Rosaline, you have a favour too:

Who sent it? and what is it?

Ros.

I would you knew:

An if my face were but as fair as yours,

My favour were as great; be witness this.

Nay, I have verses too, I thank Biron:

035 The numbers true; and, were the numbering too,

I were the fairest goddess on the ground:

I am compared to twenty thousand fairs.

O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter!

Prin. Any thing like?

040 Ros. Much in the letters; nothing in the praise.

041 Prin. Beauteous as ink; a good conclusion.

042 Kath. Fair as a text B in a copy-book.

043 Ros. ’Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor,

My red dominical, my golden letter:

045 O that your face were not so full of O’s!

046 Kath. A pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.

047 Prin. But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?

Kath. Madam, this glove.

Prin.

Did he not send you twain?

049 Kath. Yes, madam, and, moreover,

050 Some thousand verses of a faithful lover,

051 A huge translation of hypocrisy,

Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.

053 Mar. This and these pearls to me sent Longaville:

The letter is too long by half a mile.

055 Prin. I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart

The chain were longer and the letter short?

Mar. Ay, or I would these hands might never part.

058 Prin. We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.

Ros. They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.

060 That same Biron I’ll torture ere I go:

O that I knew he were but in by the week!

How I would make him fawn, and beg, and seek,

And wait the season, and observe the times,

And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rhymes,

065 And shape his service wholly to my hests,

066 And make him proud to make me proud that jests!

067 So perttaunt-like would I o’ersway his state,

That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

Prin. None are so surely caught, when they are catch’d,

070 As wit turn’d fool: folly, in wisdom hatch’d,

Hath wisdom’s warrant and the help of school,

072 And wit’s own grace to grace a learned fool.

Ros. The blood of youth burns not with such excess

074 As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.

075 Mar. Folly in fools bears not so strong a note

As foolery in the wise, when wit doth dote;

Since all the power thereof it doth apply

To prove, by wit, worth in simplicity.

079 Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

Enter Boyet.

080 Boyet. O, I am stabb’d with laughter! Where’s her Grace?

Prin. Thy news, Boyet?

Boyet.

Prepare, madam, prepare!

082 Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are

Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised,

Armed in arguments; you’ll be surprised:

085 Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;

Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

Prin. Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they

088 That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.

089 Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore

090 I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;

When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,

Toward that shade I might behold addrest

093 The king and his companions: warily

I stole into a neighbour thicket by,

095 And overheard what you shall overhear;

096 That, by and by, disguised they will be here.

Their herald is a pretty knavish page,

That well by heart hath conn’d his embassage:

Action and accent did they teach him there;

100 ‘Thus must thou speak,’ and ‘thus thy body bear:’

And ever and anon they made a doubt

Presence majestical would put him out;

103 ‘For,’ quoth the king, ‘an angel shalt thou see;

Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.’

105 The boy replied, ‘An angel is not evil;

I should have fear’d her, had she been a devil.’

With that, all laugh’d, and clapp’d him on the shoulder,

Making the bold wag by their praises bolder:

One rubb’d his elbow thus, and fleer’d and swore

110 A better speech was never spoke before;

Another, with his finger and his thumb,

Cried, ‘Via! we will do’t, come what will come;’

The third he caper’d, and cried, ‘All goes well;’

The fourth turn’d on the toe, and down he fell.

115 With that, they all did tumble on the ground,

With such a zealous laughter, so profound,

That in this spleen ridiculous appears,

118 To check their folly, passion’s solemn tears.

Prin. But what, but what, come they to visit us?

120 Boyet. They do, they do; and are apparell’d thus,

121 Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess.

122 Their purpose is to parle, to court and dance;

123 And every one his love-feat will advance

Unto his several mistress, which they’ll know

125 By favours several which they did bestow.

Prin. And will they so? the gallants shall be task’d;

For, ladies, we will every one be mask’d;

And not a man of them shall have the grace,

Despite of suit, to see a lady’s face.

130 Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear,

And then the king will court thee for his dear;

Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine,

So shall Biron take me for Rosaline.

134 And change you favours too; so shall your loves

135 Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.

Ros. Come on, then; wear the favours most in sight.

Kath. But in this changing what is your intent?

Prin. The effect of my intent is to cross theirs:

139 They do it but in mocking merriment;

140 And mock for mock is only my intent.

Their several counsels they unbosom shall

To loves mistook, and so be mock’d withal

Upon the next occasion that we meet,

With visages display’d, to talk and greet.

145 Ros. But shall we dance, if they desire us to’t?

Prin. No, to the death, we will not move a foot:

Nor to their penn’d speech render we no grace;

148 But while ’tis spoke each turn away her face.

149 Boyet. Why, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart,

150 And quite divorce his memory from his part.

Prin. Therefore I do it; and I make no doubt

152 The rest will ne’er come in, if he be out.

There’s no such sport as sport by sport o’erthrown;

To make theirs ours, and ours none but our own:

155 So shall we stay, mocking intended game,

156 And they, well mock’d, depart away with shame. [Trumpets sound within.

157 Boyet. The trumpet sounds: be mask’d; the maskers come. [The Ladies mask.

Enter Blackamoors with music; Moth; the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in Russian habits, and masked.

Moth. All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!—

159 Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.

160 Moth. A holy parcel of the fairest dames [The Ladies turn their backs to him.

That ever turn’d their—backs—to mortal views!

Biron. [Aside to Moth] Their eyes, villain, their eyes.

163 Moth. That ever turn’d their eyes to mortal views!—

Out—

164 Boyet. True; out indeed.

165 Moth. Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe

Not to behold—

Biron. [Aside to Moth] Once to behold, rogue.

Moth. Once to behold with your sun-beamed eyes,

—with your sun-beamed eyes—

170 Boyet. They will not answer to that epithet;

You were best call it ‘daughter-beamed eyes.’

Moth. They do not mark me, and that brings me out.

173 Biron. Is this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue! [Exit Moth.

174 Ros. What would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet:

175 If they do speak our language, ’tis our will

That some plain man recount their purposes:

177 Know what they would.

178 Boyet. What would you with the princess?

Biron. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

180 Ros. What would they, say they?

181 Boyet. Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

Ros. Why, that they have; and bid them so be gone.

Boyet. She says, you have it, and you may be gone.

King. Say to her, we have measured many miles

185 To tread a measure with her on this grass.

Boyet. They say, that they have measured many a mile

187 To tread a measure with you on this grass.

Ros. It is not so. Ask them how many inches

Is in one mile: if they have measured many,

190 The measure then of one is easily told.

Boyet. If to come hither you have measured miles,

And many miles, the princess bids you tell

193 How many inches doth fill up one mile.

Biron. Tell her, we measure them by weary steps.

Boyet. She hears herself.

Ros.

195 How many weary steps,

Of many weary miles you have o’ergone,

Are number’d in the travel of one mile?

Biron. We number nothing that we spend for you:

Our duty is so rich, so infinite,

200 That we may do it still without accompt.

Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,

That we, like savages, may worship it.

Ros. My face is but a moon, and clouded too.

King. Blessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do!

205 Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine,

Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne.

Ros. O vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;

208 Thou now request’st but moonshine in the water.

209 King. Then, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change.

210 Thou bid’st me beg: this begging is not strange.

Ros. Play, music, then! Nay, you must do it soon. [Music plays.

212 Not yet! no dance! Thus change I like the moon.

King. Will you not dance? How come you thus estranged?

Ros. You took the moon at full, but now she’s changed.

215 King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.

216 The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.

Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it.

King.

But your legs should do it.

Ros. Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,

We’ll not be nice: take hands. We will not dance.

220 King. Why take we hands, then?

Ros.

Only to part friends:

Curtsey, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.

King. More measure of this measure; be not nice.

Ros. We can afford no more at such a price.

224 King. Prize you yourselves: what buys your company?

Ros. Your absence only.

King.

225 That can never be.

Ros. Then cannot we be bought: and so, adieu;

Twice to your visor, and half once to you.

King. If you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat.

Ros. In private, then.

King.

229 I am best pleased with that. [They converse apart.

230 Biron. White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.

Prin. Honey, and milk, and sugar; there is three.

232 Biron. Nay then, two treys, an if you grow so nice,

Metheglin, wort, and malmsey: well run, dice!

There’s half-a-dozen sweets.

Prin.

Seventh sweet, adieu:

235 Since you can cog, I’ll play no more with you.

Biron. One word in secret.

Prin.

Let it not be sweet.

Biron. Thou grievest my gall.

Prin.

237 Gall! bitter.

Biron.

Therefore meet. [They converse apart.

Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?

Mar. Name it.

Dum.

Fair lady,—

Mar.

Say you so? Fair lord,—

240 Take that for your fair lady.

Dum.

Please it you,

As much in private, and I’ll bid adieu. [They converse apart.

242 Kath. What, was your vizard made without a tongue?

Long. I know the reason, lady, why you ask.

Kath. O for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.

245 Long. You have a double tongue within your mask,

And would afford my speechless vizard half.

247 Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not ‘veal’ a calf?

Long. A calf, fair lady!

Kath.

No, a fair lord calf.

Long. Let’s part the word.

Kath.

No, I’ll not be your half:

250 Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.

251 Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks!

Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.

Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns do grow.

Long. One word in private with you, ere I die.

255 Kath. Bleat softly, then; the butcher hears you cry. [They converse apart.

Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches are as keen

257 As is the razor’s edge invisible,

Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen;

259 Above the sense of sense; so sensible

260 Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings

261 Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.

Ros. Not one word more, my maids; break off, break off.

263 Biron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!

264 King. Farewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.

265 Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. [Exeunt King, Lords, and Blackamoors.

Are these the breed of wits so wonder’d at?

Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff’d out.

Ros. Well-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.

269 Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!

270 Will they not, think you, hang themselves to-night?

Or ever, but in vizards, show their faces?

This pert Biron was out of countenance quite.

273 Ros. O, they were all in lamentable cases!

The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.

275 Prin. Biron did swear himself out of all suit.

Mar. Dumain was at my service, and his sword:

No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.

Kath. Lord Longaville said, I came o’er his heart;

And trow you what he call’d me?

Prin.

Qualm, perhaps.

Kath. Yes, in good faith.

Prin.

280 Go, sickness as thou art!

Ros. Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.

But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.

Prin. And quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.

Kath. And Longaville was for my service born.

285 Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.

Boyet. Madam, and pretty mistresses, give ear:

Immediately they will again be here

In their own shapes; for it can never be

289 They will digest this harsh indignity.

Prin. Will they return?

Boyet.

290 They will, they will, God knows,

And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows:

Therefore change favours; and, when they repair,

Blow like sweet roses in this summer air.

Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood.

295 Boyet. Fair ladies mask’d are roses in their bud;

296 Dismask’d, their damask sweet commixture shown,

297 Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,

If they return in their own shapes to woo?

300 Ros. Good madam, if by me you’ll be advised,

Let’s mock them still, as well known as disguised:

Let us complain to them what fools were here,

Disguised like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;

And wonder what they were and to what end

305 Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn’d,

And their rough carriage so ridiculous,

307 Should be presented at our tent to us.

Boyet. Ladies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.

309 Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run o’er land. [Exeunt Princess, Rosaline, Katharine, and Maria.

Re-enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their proper habits.

310 King. Fair sir, God save you! Where’s the princess?

Boyet. Gone to her tent. Please it your Majesty

312 Command me any service to her thither?

King. That she vouchsafe me audience for one word.

Boyet. I will; and so will she, I know, my lord. [Exit.

315 Biron. This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease,

316 And utters it again when God doth please:

He is wit’s pedler, and retails his wares

At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs;

And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,

320 Have not the grace to grace it with such show.

This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve;

Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve;

323 A’ can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he

324 That kiss’d his hand away in courtesy;

325 This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,

That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice

In honourable terms: nay, he can sing

328 A mean most meanly; and in ushering,

Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet;

330 The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet:

331 This is the flower that smiles on every one,

332 To show his teeth as white as whale’s bone;

333 And consciences, that will not die in debt,

334 Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.

335 King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,

That put Armado’s page out of his part!

337 Biron. See where it comes! Behaviour, what wert thou

338 Till this madman show’d thee? and what art thou now?

Re-enter the Princess, ushered by Boyet; Rosaline, Maria, and Katharin..

King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!

340 Prin. ‘Fair’ in ‘all hail’ is foul, as I conceive.

341 King. Construe my speeches better, if you may.

Prin. Then wish me better; I will give you leave.

343 King. We came to visit you, and purpose now

To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then.

345 Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:

346 Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men.

King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke:

348 The virtue of your eye must break my oath.

Prin. You nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke;

350 For virtue’s office never breaks men’s troth.

Now by my maiden honour yet as pure

352 As the unsullied lily I protest,

A world of torments though I should endure,

I would not yield to be your house’s guest;

355 So much I hate a breaking cause to be

356 Of heavenly oaths, vow’d with integrity.

King. O, you have lived in desolation here,

Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.

Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;

360 We have had pastimes here and pleasant game:

A mess of Russians left us but of late.

King. How, madam! Russians!

Prin.

Ay, in truth, my lord;

Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.

Ros. Madam, speak true. It is not so, my lord:

365 My lady, to the manner of the days,

In courtesy gives undeserving praise.

We four indeed confronted were with four

368 In Russian habit: here they stay’d an hour,

And talk’d apace; and in that hour, my lord,

370 They did not bless us with one happy word.

I dare not call them fools; but this I think,

When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.

373 Biron. This jest is dry to me. Fair gentle sweet,

374 Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,

375 With eyes best seeing, heaven’s fiery eye,

By light we lose light: your capacity

Is of that nature that to your huge store

Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor.

379 Ros. This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye,—

380 Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Ros. But that you take what doth to you belong,

It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.

Biron. O, I am yours, and all that I possess!

Ros. All the fool mine?

Biron.

I cannot give you less.

385 Ros. Which of the vizards was it that you wore?

Biron. Where? when? what vizard? why demand you this?

Ros. There, then, that vizard; that superfluous case

That hid the worse, and show’d the better face.

King. We are descried; they’ll mock us now downright.

390 Dum. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.

Prin. Amazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad?

392 Ros. Help, hold his brows! he’ll swound! Why look you pale?

Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.

395 Can any face of brass hold longer out?

396 Here stand I: lady, dart thy skill at me;

Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout;

Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance;

Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;

400 And I will wish thee never more to dance,

Nor never more in Russian habit wait.

O, never will I trust to speeches penn’d,

Nor to the motion of a schoolboy’s tongue;

404 Nor never come in vizard to my friend;

405 Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song!

Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,

407 Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation,

Figures pedantical; these summer-flies

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:

410 I do forswear them; and I here protest,

By this white glove,—how white the hand, God knows!—

Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d

In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes:

And, to begin, wench,—so God help me, la!—

415 My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.

Ros. Sans sans, I pray you.

Biron.

Yet I have a trick

Of the old rage:—bear with me, I am sick;

I’ll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see:

Write, ‘Lord have mercy on us’ on those three;

420 They are infected; in their hearts it lies;

421 They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes;

These lords are visited; you are not free,

For the Lord’s tokens on you do I see.

Prin. No, they are free that gave these tokens to us.

425 Biron. Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.

Ros. It is not so; for how can this be true,

That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?

Biron. Peace! for I will not have to do with you.

Ros. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend.

430 Biron. Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end.

King. Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression

Some fair excuse.

Prin.

The fairest is confession.

433 Were not you here but even now disguised?

King. Madam, I was.

Prin.

And were you well advised?

King. I was, fair madam.

Prin.

435 When you then were here,

What did you whisper in your lady’s ear?

King. That more than all the world I did respect her.

Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her.

439 King. Upon mine honour, no.

Prin.

Peace, peace! forbear:

440 Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.

King. Despise me, when I break this oath of mine.

Prin. I will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline,

What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

Ros. Madam, he swore that he did hold me dear

445 As precious eyesight, and did value me

446 Above this world; adding thereto, moreover,

That he would wed me, or else die my lover.

Prin. God give thee joy of him! the noble lord

Most honourably doth uphold his word.

450 King. What mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,

I never swore this lady such an oath.

Ros. By heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,

You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.

454 King. My faith and this the princess I did give:

455 I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.

Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;

And Lord Biron, I thank him, is my dear.

What, will you have me, or your pearl again?

Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain.

460 I see the trick on’t: here was a consent,

Knowing aforehand of our merriment,

To dash it like a Christmas comedy:

463 Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,

Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,

465 That smiles his cheek in years, and knows the trick

To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed,

Told our intents before; which once disclosed,

The ladies did change favours; and then we,

Following the signs, woo’d but the sign of she.

470 Now, to our perjury to add more terror,

We are again forsworn, in will and error.

472 Much upon this it is: and might not you [To Boyet.

Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?

474 Do not you know my lady’s foot by the squier,

475 And laugh upon the apple of her eye?

And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,

Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?

478 You put our page out: go, you are allow’d;

Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.

480 You leer upon me, do you? there’s an eye

481 Wounds like a leaden sword.

Boyet.

Full merrily

482 Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.

Biron. Lo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.

Enter Costard.

484 Welcome, pure wit! thou part’st a fair fray.

485 Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know

Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.

Biron. What, are there but three?

Cost.

487 No, sir; but it is vara fine,

488 For every one pursents three.

Biron.

And three times thrice is nine.

Cost. Not so, sir; under correction, sir; I hope it is not so.

490 You cannot beg us, sir, I can assure you, sir; we know what we know:

491 I hope, sir, three times thrice, sir,—

Biron. Is not nine.

Cost. Under correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.

495 Biron. By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

Cost. O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.

Biron. How much is it?

Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, 500 will show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine own part, I 501 am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.

Biron. Art thou one of the Worthies?

504 Cost. It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion 505 the Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.

Biron. Go, bid them prepare.

Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care. [Exit.

King. Biron, they will shame us: let them not approach.

510 Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and ’tis some policy

511 To have one show worse than the king’s and his company.

King. I say they shall not come.

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now:

514 That sport best pleases that doth least know how:

515 Where zeal strives to content, and the contents

Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:

Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,

517 When great things labouring perish in their birth.

Biron. A right description of our sport, my lord.

Enter Armado.

520 Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal 521 sweet breath as will utter a brace of words. [Converses apart with the King, and delivers him a paper.

Prin. Doth this man serve God?

Biron. Why ask you?

524 Prin. He speaks not like a man of God’s making.

525 Arm. That is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too too vain, too too vain: but we will put it, as they say, 528 to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, 529 most royal couplement! [Exit.

530 King. Here is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado’s page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabæus:

534 And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,

535 These four will change habits, and present the other five.

Biron. There is five in the first show.

King. You are deceived; ’tis not so.

Biron. ‘The pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool and the boy:—

540 Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again

541 Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.

542 King. The ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.

Enter Costard, for Pompey.

543 Cost. I Pompey am,—

Boyet.

You lie, you are not he.

Cost. I Pompey am,—

Boyet.

With libbard’s head on knee.

545 Biron. Well said, old mocker: I must needs be friends with thee.

Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big,—

Dum. The Great.

Cost. It is, ‘Great,’ sir:—

Pompey surnamed the Great;

That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat:

550 And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance,

And lay my arms before the legs of 551 this sweet lass of France.

If your ladyship would say, ‘Thanks, Pompey,’ I had done.

553 Prin. Great thanks, Great Pompey.

Cost. ’Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect:

555 I made a little fault in ‘Great.’

Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.

Enter Sir Nathaniel, for Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I lived, I was the world’s commander;

By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:

560 My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander,—

Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.

562 Biron. Your nose smells ‘no’ in this, most tender-smelling knight.

563 Prin. The conqueror is dismay’d. Proceed, good Alexander.

Nath. When in the world I lived, I was the world’s commander,—

565 Boyet. Most true, ’tis right; you were so, Alisander.

Biron. Pompey the Great,—

Cost. Your servant, and Costard.

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Cost. [To Sir Nath.] O, sir, you have overthrown Alisander 570 the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-axe sitting on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax: he will be the ninth 573 Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [Nath. retires.] 574 There, an’t shall please 575 you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and 576 soon dashed. He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander,—alas, you see 578 how ’tis,—a little o’erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming 579 will speak their mind in some other sort.

580 Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey.

Enter Holofernes, for Judas; and Moth, for Hercules.

Hol.

581 Great Hercules is presented by this imp,

Whose club kill’d Cerberus, that 582 three-headed canis;

And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus.

Quoniam he seemeth in minority,

585 Ergo I come with this apology.

587 Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. [Moth retires.

Judas I am,-

Dum. A Judas!

Hol. Not Iscariot, sir.

590 Judas I am, ycliped Maccabæus.

Dum. Judas Maccabæus dipt is plain Judas.

593 Biron. A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas?

Hol. Judas I am,—

595 Dum. The more shame for you, Judas.

Hol. What mean you, sir?

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself.

Hol. Begin, sir; you are my elder.

Biron. Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.

600 Hol. I will not be put out of countenance.

Biron. Because thou hast no face.

Hol. What is this?

Boyet. A cittern-head.

Dum. The head of a bodkin.

605 Biron. A Death’s face in a ring.

Long. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.

607 Boyet. The pommel of Cæsar’s falchion.

Dum. The carved-bone face on a flask.

Biron. Saint George’s half-cheek in a brooch.

610 Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

Biron. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer.

And now forward; for we have put thee in countenance.

Hol. You have put me out of countenance.

Biron. False: we have given thee faces.

615 Hol. But you have out-faced them all.

Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so.

617 Boyet. Therefore, as he is an ass, let him go.

And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?

Dum. For the latter end of his name.

620 Biron. For the ass to the Jude; give it him:—Jud-as, away!

Hol. This is not generous, not gentle, not humble.

Boyet. A light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark, he may stumble. [Hol. retires.

623 Prin. Alas, poor Maccabæus, how hath he been baited!

Enter Armado, for Hector.

625 Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms.

626 Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.

628 King. Hector was but a Troyan in respect of this.

Boyet. But is this Hector?

630 King. I think Hector was not so clean-timbered.

631 Long. His leg is too big for Hector’s.

Dum. More calf, certain.

633 Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small.

Biron. This cannot be Hector.

635 Dum. He’s a god or a painter; for he makes faces.

Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,

Gave Hector a gift,—

638 Dum. A gilt nutmeg.

Biron. A lemon.

640 Long. Stuck with cloves.

Dum. No, cloven.

642 Arm. Peace!—

The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,

Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;

645 A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea

From morn till night, out of his pavilion.

I am that flower,—

Dum.

647 That mint.

Long.

That columbine.

650 Arm. Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

Long. I must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.

Dum. Ay, and Hector’s a greyhound.

Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet 653 chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed, he was a man. But I will forward with my device. [To the Princess] 655 Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.

Prin. Speak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.

Arm. I do adore thy sweet Grace’s slipper.

Boyet. [Aside to Dum.] Loves her by the foot.

Dum. [Aside to Boyet] He may not by the yard.

660 Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,—

661 Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

Arm. What meanest thou?

Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the 665 poor wench is cast away: she’s quick; the child brags in her belly already: ’tis yours.

Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die.

Cost. Then shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that 670 is quick by him, and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him.

Dum. Most rare Pompey!

Boyet. Renowned Pompey!

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the Huge!

675 Dum. Hector trembles.

Biron. Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir 677 them on! stir them on!

Dum. Hector will challenge him.

Biron. Ay, if a’ have no more man’s blood in’s belly 680 than will sup a flea.

Arm. By the north pole, I do challenge thee.

Cost. I will not fight with a pole, like a northern man: 683 I’ll slash; I’ll do it by the sword. I bepray you, let me borrow my arms again.

685 Dum. Room for the incensed Worthies!

Cost. I’ll do it in my shirt.

687 Dum. Most resolute Pompey!

688 Moth. Master, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What 690 mean you? You will lose your reputation.

Arm. Gentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.

Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge.

695 Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will.

Biron. What reason have you for’t?

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.

699 Boyet. True, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want 700 of linen: since when, I’ll be sworn, he wore none but a dish-clout 701 of Jaquenetta’s, and that a’ wears next his heart for a 702 favour.

Enter Marcade.

Mar. God save you, madam!

704 Prin. Welcome, Marcade;

705 But that thou interrupt’st our merriment.

706 Mar. I am sorry, madam; for the news I bring

Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father—

Prin. Dead, for my life!

Mar. Even so; my tale is told.

710 Biron. Worthies, away! the scene begins to cloud.

Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have 712 seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. [Exeunt Worthies.

King. How fares your majesty?

715 Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night.

King. Madam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.

Prin. Prepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,

718 For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,

Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe

720 In your rich wisdom to excuse, or hide,

The liberal opposition of our spirits,

If over-boldly we have borne ourselves

In the converse of breath: your gentleness

Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!

725 A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue:

726 Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks

For my great suit so easily obtain’d.

728 King. The extreme parts of time extremely forms

All causes to the purpose of his speed;

730 And often, at his very loose, decides

731 That which long process could not arbitrate:

And though the mourning brow of progeny

Forbid the smiling courtesy of love

734 The holy suit which fain it would convince;

735 Yet, since love’s argument was first on foot,

Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it

From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost

738 Is not by much so wholesome-profitable

As to rejoice at friends but newly found.

740 Prin. I understand you not: my griefs are double.

741 Biron. Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;

And by these badges understand the king.

For your fair sakes have we neglected time,

Play’d foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,

745 Hath much deform’d us, fashioning our humours

Even to the opposed end of our intents:

And what in us hath seem’d ridiculous,—

748 As love is full of unbefitting strains;

All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain;

750 Form’d by the eye, and therefore, like the eye,

751 Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,

Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll

To every varied object in his glance:

Which parti-coated presence of loose love

755 Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,

756 Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities,

Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,

Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,

Our love being yours, the error that love makes

760 Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,

By being once false for ever to be true

762 To those that make us both,—fair ladies, you:

763 And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,

Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace.

765 Prin. We have received your letters full of love:

766 Your favours, the ambassadors of love;

And, in our maiden council, rated them

At courtship, pleasant jest and courtesy,

As bombast and as lining to the time:

770 But more devout than this in our respects

771 Have we not been; and therefore met your loves

In their own fashion, like a merriment.

Dum. Our letters, madam, show’d much more than jest.

Long. So did our looks.

Ros.

We did not quote them so.

775 King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour,

Grant us your loves.

Prin.

A time, methinks, too short

To make a world-without-end bargain in.

No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much,

Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this:—

780 If for my love, as there is no such cause,

You will do aught, this shall you do for me:

Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed

To some forlorn and naked hermitage,

Remote from all the pleasures of the world;

785 There stay until the twelve celestial signs

786 Have brought about the annual reckoning.

If this austere insociable life

Change not your offer made in heat of blood;

If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds

790 Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,

But that it bear this trial, and last love;

Then, at the expiration of the year,

793 Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,

And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine,

795 I will be thine; and till that instant shut

My woeful self up in a mourning house,

Raining the tears of lamentation

For the remembrance of my father’s death.

If this thou do deny, let our hands part,

800 Neither intitled in the other’s heart.

King. If this, or more than this, I would deny,

802 To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,

The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!

804 Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.

805 Biron. And what to me, my love? and what to me?

806 Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rack’d,

807 You are attaint with faults and perjury:

Therefore if you my favour mean to get,

A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,

810 But seek the weary beds of people sick.

Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me?

812 A wife?

Kath.

A beard, fair health, and honesty;

With three-fold love I wish you all these three.

Dum. O, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?

815 Kath. Not so, my lord; a twelvemonth and a day

I’ll mark no words that smooth-faced wooers say:

Come when the king doth to my lady come;

Then, if I have much love, I’ll give you some.

Dum. I’ll serve thee true and faithfully till then.

820 Kath. Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again.

Long. What says Maria?

Mar.

At the twelvemonth’s end

I’ll change my black gown for a faithful friend.

Long. I’ll stay with patience; but the time is long.

Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young.

825 Biron. Studies my lady? mistress, look on me;

Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,

What humble suit attends thy answer there:

828 Impose some service on me for thy love.

829 Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Biron,

830 Before I saw you; and the world’s large tongue

Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks,

Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,

833 Which you on all estates will execute

That lie within the mercy of your wit.

835 To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,

And therewithal to win me, if you please,

Without the which I am not to be won,

You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day

Visit the speechless sick, and still converse

840 With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,

With all the fierce endeavour of your wit

To enforce the pained impotent to smile.

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of death?

It cannot be; it is impossible:

845 Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Ros. Why, that’s the way to choke a gibing spirit,

Whose influence is begot of that loose grace

Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools:

A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear

850 Of him that hears it, never in the tongue

Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,

852 Deaf’d with the clamours of their own dear groans,

853 Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,

And I will have you and that fault withal;

855 But if they will not, throw away that spirit,

And I shall find you empty of that fault,

Right joyful of your reformation.

Biron. A twelvemonth! well; befall what will befall,

I’ll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.

Prin. [To the King] Ay, sweet my Lord; and so I take 860 my leave.

King. No, madam; we will bring you on your way.

Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play;

Jack hath not Jill: these ladies’ courtesy

Might well have made our sport a comedy.

865 King. Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,

And then ’twill end.

Biron.

That’s too long for a play.

Re-enter Armado.

Arm. Sweet Majesty, vouchsafe me,—

868 Prin. Was not that Hector?

Dum. The worthy knight of Troy.

870 Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the 872 plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it 875 should have followed in the end of our show.

King. Call them forth quickly; we will do so.

877 Arm. Holla! approach.

Re-enter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Moth, Costard, and others.

This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the Spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, 880 begin.

The Song.

Spring.

When daisies pied and violets blue

882 And lady-smocks all silver-white

883 And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue

884 Do paint the meadows with delight,

885 The cuckoo then, on every tree,

Mocks married men; for thus sings he,

Cuckoo;

Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear!

890 When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,

And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks,

When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,

And maidens bleach their summer smocks,

The cuckoo then, on every tree,

895 Mocks married men; for thus sings he,

Cuckoo;

Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear!

Winter.

When icicles hang by the wall,

900 And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,

And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail,

903 When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul,

Then nightly sings the staring owl,

905 Tu-whit;

Tu-who, a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson’s saw,

910 And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian’s nose looks red and raw,

When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,

Then nightly sings the staring owl,

Tu-whit;

915 Tu-who, a merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

917 Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs 918 of Apollo. You that way,—we this way. [Exeunt.