ARKCODEX
Act V, Scene 2
1The same.
2Enter the Princess, Katharine, Rosaline, and Maria.
3PrincessSweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
If fairings come thus plentifully in:
A lady wall’d about with diamonds!
Look you what I have from the loving king.
4RosalineMadame, came nothing else along with that?
5PrincessNothing but this! yes, as much love in rhyme
As would be cramm’d up in a sheet of paper,
Writ o’ both sides the leaf, margent and all,
That he was fain to seal on Cupid’s name.
6RosalineThat was the way to make his godhead wax,
For he hath been five thousand years a boy.
7KatharineAy, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.
8RosalineYou’ll ne’er be friends with him; a’ kill’d your sister.
9KatharineHe made her melancholy, sad, and heavy;
And so she died: had she been light, like you,
Of such a merry, nimble, stirring spirit,
She might ha’ been a grandam ere she died:
And so may you; for a light heart lives long.
10RosalineWhat’s your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?
11KatharineA light condition in a beauty dark.
12RosalineWe need more light to find your meaning out.
13KatharineYou’ll mar the light by taking it in snuff;
Therefore I’ll darkly end the argument.
14RosalineLook, what you do, you do it still i’ the dark.
15KatharineSo do not you, for you are a light wench.
16RosalineIndeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.
17KatharineYou weigh me not? O, that’s you care not for me.
18RosalineGreat reason; for “past cure is still past care.”
19PrincessWell bandied both; a set of wit well play’d.
But Rosaline, you have a favour too:
Who sent it? and what is it?
20RosalineI 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:
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!
21PrincessAny thing like?
22RosalineMuch in the letters; nothing in the praise.
23PrincessBeauteous as ink; a good conclusion.
24KatharineFair as a text B in a copy-book.
25Rosaline’Ware pencils, ho! let me not die your debtor,
My red dominical, my golden letter:
O, that your face were not so full of O’s!
26KatharineA pox of that jest! and I beshrew all shrows.
27PrincessBut, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumain?
28KatharineMadam, this glove.
29PrincessDid he not send you twain?
30KatharineYes, madam, and moreover
Some thousand verses of a faithful lover,
A huge translation of hypocrisy,
Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.
31MariaThis and these pearls to me sent Longaville:
The letter is too long by half a mile.
32PrincessI think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart
The chain were longer and the letter short?
33MariaAy, or I would these hands might never part.
34PrincessWe are wise girls to mock our lovers so.
35RosalineThey are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
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
And shape his service wholly to my hests
And make him proud to make me proud that jests!
So perttaunt-like would I o’ersway his state
That he should be my fool and I his fate.
36PrincessNone are so surely caught, when they are catch’d,
As wit turn’d fool: folly, in wisdom hatch’d,
Hath wisdom’s warrant and the help of school
And wit’s own grace to grace a learned fool.
37RosalineThe blood of youth burns not with such excess
As gravity’s revolt to wantonness.
38MariaFolly 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.
39PrincessHere comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.
40Enter Boyet.
41BoyetO, I am stabb’d with laughter! Where’s her grace?
42PrincessThy news, Boyet?
43BoyetPrepare, madam, prepare!
Arm, wenches, arm! encounters mounted are
Against your peace: Love doth approach disguised,
Armed in arguments; you’ll be surprised:
Muster your wits; stand in your own defence;
Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.
44PrincessSaint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they
That charge their breath against us? say, scout, say.
45BoyetUnder the cool shade of a sycamore
I thought to close mine eyes some half an hour;
When, lo! to interrupt my purposed rest,
Toward that shade I might behold addrest
The king and his companions: warily
I stole into a neighbour thicket by,
And overheard what you shall overhear,
That, by and by, disguised they will be here.
Their herald is a pretty knavish page,
That well by heart hath conn’d his embassage:
Action and accent did they teach him there;
“Thus must thou speak,” and “thus thy body bear:”
And ever and anon they made a doubt
Presence majestical would put him out;
“For,” quoth the king, “an angel shalt thou see;
Yet fear not thou, but speak audaciously.”
The boy replied, “An angel is not evil;
I should have fear’d her had she been a devil.”
With that, all laugh’d and clapp’d him on the shoulder,
Making the bold wag by their praises bolder:
One rubb’d his elbow thus, and fleer’d and swore
A better speech was never spoke before;
Another, with his finger and his thumb,
Cried, “Via! we will do’t, come what will come;”
The third he caper’d, and cried, “All goes well;”
The fourth turn’d on the toe, and down he fell.
With that, they all did tumble on the ground,
With such a zealous laughter, so profound,
That in this spleen ridiculous appears,
To cheque their folly, passion’s solemn tears.
46PrincessBut what, but what, come they to visit us?
47BoyetThey do, they do; and are apparell’d thus,
Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess.
Their purpose is to parle, to court and dance;
And every one his love-feat will advance
Unto his several mistress, which they’ll know
By favours several which they did bestow.
48PrincessAnd will they so? the gallants shall be task’d;
For, ladies, we shall every one be mask’d;
And not a man of them shall have the grace,
Despite of suit, to see a lady’s face.
Hold, Rosaline, this favour thou shalt wear,
And then the king will court thee for his dear;
Hold, take thou this, my sweet, and give me thine,
So shall Biron take me for Rosaline.
And change your favours too; so shall your loves
Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.
49RosalineCome on, then; wear the favours most in sight.
50KatharineBut in this changing what is your intent?
51PrincessThe effect of my intent is to cross theirs:
They do it but in mocking merriment;
And mock for mock is only my intent.
Their several counsels they unbosom shall
To loves mistook, and so be mock’d withal
Upon the next occasion that we meet,
With visages display’d, to talk and greet.
52RosalineBut shall we dance, if they desire to’t?
53PrincessNo, to the death, we will not move a foot;
Nor to their penn’d speech render we no grace,
But while ’tis spoke each turn away her face.
54BoyetWhy, that contempt will kill the speaker’s heart,
And quite divorce his memory from his part.
55PrincessTherefore I do it; and I make no doubt
The rest will ne’er come in, if he be out.
There’s no such sport as sport by sport o’erthrown,
To make theirs ours and ours none but our own:
So shall we stay, mocking intended game,
And they, well mock’d, depart away with shame. Trumpets sound within.
56BoyetThe trumpet sounds: be mask’d; the maskers come. The Ladies mask.
57Enter Blackamoors with music; Moth; the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in Russian habits, and masked.
58MothAll hail, the richest beauties on the earth!—
59BoyetBeauties no richer than rich taffeta.
60MothA holy parcel of the fairest dames, The Ladies turn their backs to him.
That ever turn’d their—backs—to mortal views!
61BironAside to Moth. Their eyes, villain, their eyes.
62MothThat ever turn’d their eyes to mortal views!—
Out—
63BoyetTrue; out indeed.
64MothOut of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe
Not to behold—
65BironAside to Moth. Once to behold, rogue.
66MothOnce to behold with your sun-beamed eyes,
—with your sun-beamed eyes—
67BoyetThey will not answer to that epithet;
You were best call it “daughter-beamed eyes.”
68MothThey do not mark me, and that brings me out.
69BironIs this your perfectness? be gone, you rogue! Exit Moth.
70RosalineWhat would these strangers? know their minds, Boyet:
If they do speak our language, ’tis our will
That some plain man recount their purposes:
Know what they would.
71BoyetWhat would you with the princess?
72BironNothing but peace and gentle visitation.
73RosalineWhat would they, say they?
74BoyetNothing but peace and gentle visitation.
75RosalineWhy, that they have; and bid them so be gone.
76BoyetShe says, you have it, and you may be gone.
77KingSay to her, we have measured many miles
To tread a measure with her on this grass.
78BoyetThey say, that they have measured many a mile
To tread a measure with you on this grass.
79RosalineIt is not so. Ask them how many inches
Is in one mile: if they have measured many,
The measure then of one is easily told.
80BoyetIf to come hither you have measured miles,
And many miles, the princess bids you tell
How many inches doth fill up one mile.
81BironTell her, we measure them by weary steps.
82BoyetShe hears herself.
83RosalineHow many weary steps,
Of many weary miles you have o’ergone,
Are number’d in the travel of one mile?
84BironWe number nothing that we spend for you:
Our duty is so rich, so infinite,
That we may do it still without accompt.
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,
That we, like savages, may worship it.
85RosalineMy face is but a moon, and clouded too.
86KingBlessed are clouds, to do as such clouds do!
Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine,
Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne.
87RosalineO vain petitioner! beg a greater matter;
Thou now request’st but moonshine in the water.
88KingThen, in our measure do but vouchsafe one change.
Thou bid’st me beg: this begging is not strange.
89RosalinePlay, music, then! Nay, you must do it soon. Music plays.
Not yet! no dance! Thus change I like the moon.
90KingWill you not dance? How come you thus estranged?
91RosalineYou took the moon at full, but now she’s changed.
92KingYet still she is the moon, and I the man.
The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.
93RosalineOur ears vouchsafe it.
94KingBut your legs should do it.
95RosalineSince you are strangers and come here by chance,
We’ll not be nice: take hands. We will not dance.
96KingWhy take we hands, then?
97RosalineOnly to part friends:
Curtsy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.
98KingMore measure of this measure; be not nice.
99RosalineWe can afford no more at such a price.
100KingPrize you yourselves: what buys your company?
101RosalineYour absence only.
102KingThat can never be.
103RosalineThen cannot we be bought: and so, adieu;
Twice to your visor, and half once to you.
104KingIf you deny to dance, let’s hold more chat.
105RosalineIn private, then.
106KingI am best pleased with that. They converse apart.
107BironWhite-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.
108PrincessHoney, and milk, and sugar; there is three.
109BironNay then, two treys, and if you grow so nice,
Metheglin, wort, and malmsey: well run, dice!
There’s half-a-dozen sweets.
110PrincessSeventh sweet, adieu:
Since you can cog, I’ll play no more with you.
111BironOne word in secret.
112PrincessLet it not be sweet.
113BironThou grievest my gall.
114PrincessGall! bitter.
115BironTherefore meet. They converse apart.
116DumainWill you vouchsafe with me to change a word?
117MariaName it.
118DumainFair lady—
119MariaSay you so? Fair lord—
Take that for your fair lady.
120DumainPlease it you,
As much in private, and I’ll bid adieu. They converse apart.
121KatharineWhat, was your vizard made without a tongue?
122LongavilleI know the reason, lady, why you ask.
123KatharineO for your reason! quickly, sir; I long.
124LongavilleYou have a double tongue within your mask,
And would afford my speechless vizard half.
125KatharineVeal, quoth the Dutchman. Is not “veal” a calf?
126LongavilleA calf, fair lady!
127KatharineNo, a fair lord calf.
128LongavilleLet’s part the word.
129KatharineNo, I’ll not be your half:
Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.
130LongavilleLook, how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks!
Will you give horns, chaste lady? do not so.
131KatharineThen die a calf, before your horns do grow.
132LongavilleOne word in private with you, ere I die.
133KatharineBleat softly then; the butcher hears you cry. They converse apart.
134BoyetThe tongues of mocking wenches are as keen
As is the razor’s edge invisible,
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen,
Above the sense of sense; so sensible
Seemeth their conference; their conceits have wings
Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thought, swifter things.
135RosalineNot one word more, my maids; break off, break off.
136BironBy heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!
137KingFarewell, mad wenches; you have simple wits.
138PrincessTwenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits. Exeunt King, Lords, and Blackamoors.
Are these the breed of wits so wonder’d at?
139BoyetTapers they are, with your sweet breaths puff’d out.
140RosalineWell-liking wits they have; gross, gross; fat, fat.
141PrincessO poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
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.
142RosalineO, they were all in lamentable cases!
The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.
143PrincessBiron did swear himself out of all suit.
144MariaDumain was at my service, and his sword:
No point, quoth I; my servant straight was mute.
145KatharineLord Longaville said, I came o’er his heart;
And trow you what he call’d me?
146PrincessQualm, perhaps.
147KatharineYes, in good faith.
148PrincessGo, sickness as thou art!
149RosalineWell, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.
But will you hear? the king is my love sworn.
150PrincessAnd quick Biron hath plighted faith to me.
151KatharineAnd Longaville was for my service born.
152MariaDumain is mine, as sure as bark on tree.
153BoyetMadam, and pretty mistresses, give ear:
Immediately they will again be here
In their own shapes; for it can never be
They will digest this harsh indignity.
154PrincessWill they return?
155BoyetThey 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.
156PrincessHow blow? how blow? speak to be understood.
157BoyetFair ladies mask’d are roses in their bud;
Dismask’d, their damask sweet commixture shown,
Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.
158PrincessAvaunt, perplexity! What shall we do,
If they return in their own shapes to woo?
159RosalineGood madam, if by me you’ll be advised,
Let’s mock them still, as well known as disguised:
Let us complain to them what fools were here,
Disguised like Muscovites, in shapeless gear;
And wonder what they were and to what end
Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penn’d
And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
Should be presented at our tent to us.
160BoyetLadies, withdraw: the gallants are at hand.
161PrincessWhip to our tents, as roes run o’er land. Exeunt Princess, Rosaline, Katharine, and Maria.
162Reenter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their proper habits.
163KingFair sir, God save you! Where’s the princess?
164BoyetGone to her tent. Please it your majesty
Command me any service to her thither?
165KingThat she vouchsafe me audience for one word.
166BoyetI will; and so will she, I know, my lord. Exit.
167BironThis fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease,
And utters it again when God doth please:
He is wit’s peddler, and retails his wares
At wakes and wassails, meetings, markets, fairs;
And we that sell by gross, the Lord doth know,
Have not the grace to grace it with such show.
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve;
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve;
A’ can carve too, and lisp: why, this is he
That kiss’d his hand away in courtesy;
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice,
That, when he plays at tables, chides the dice
In honourable terms: nay, he can sing
A mean most meanly; and in ushering
Mend him who can: the ladies call him sweet;
The stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet:
This is the flower that smiles on every one,
To show his teeth as white as whale’s bone;
And consciences, that will not die in debt,
Pay him the due of honey-tongued Boyet.
168KingA blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,
That put Armado’s page out of his part!
169BironSee where it comes! Behaviour, what wert thou
Till this madman show’d thee? and what art thou now?
170Reenter the Princess, ushered by Boyet; Rosaline, Maria, and Katharine.
171KingAll hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day!
172Princess“Fair” in “all hail” is foul, as I conceive.
173KingConstrue my speeches better, if you may.
174PrincessThen wish me better; I will give you leave.
175KingWe came to visit you, and purpose now
To lead you to our court; vouchsafe it then.
176PrincessThis field shall hold me; and so hold your vow:
Nor God, nor I, delights in perjured men.
177KingRebuke me not for that which you provoke:
The virtue of your eye must break my oath.
178PrincessYou nickname virtue; vice you should have spoke;
For virtue’s office never breaks men’s troth.
Now by my maiden honour, yet as pure
As the unsullied lily, I protest,
A world of torments though I should endure,
I would not yield to be your house’s guest;
So much I hate a breaking cause to be
Of heavenly oaths, vow’d with integrity.
179KingO, you have lived in desolation here,
Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.
180PrincessNot so, my lord; it is not so, I swear;
We have had pastimes here and pleasant game:
A mess of Russians left us but of late.
181KingHow, madam! Russians!
182PrincessAy, in truth, my lord;
Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.
183RosalineMadam, speak true. It is not so, my lord:
My lady, to the manner of the days,
In courtesy gives undeserving praise.
We four indeed confronted were with four
In Russian habit: here they stay’d an hour,
And talk’d apace; and in that hour, my lord,
They did not bless us with one happy word.
I dare not call them fools; but this I think,
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink.
184BironThis jest is dry to me. Fair gentle sweet,
Your wit makes wise things foolish: when we greet,
With eyes best seeing, heaven’s fiery eye,
By light we lose light: your capacity
Is of that nature that to your huge store
Wise things seem foolish and rich things but poor.
185RosalineThis proves you wise and rich, for in my eye—
186BironI am a fool, and full of poverty.
187RosalineBut that you take what doth to you belong,
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.
188BironO, I am yours, and all that I possess!
189RosalineAll the fool mine?
190BironI cannot give you less.
191RosalineWhich of the vizards was it that you wore?
192BironWhere? when? what vizard? why demand you this?
193RosalineThere, then, that vizard; that superfluous case
That hid the worse and show’d the better face.
194KingWe are descried; they’ll mock us now downright.
195DumainLet us confess and turn it to a jest.
196PrincessAmazed, my lord? why looks your highness sad?
197RosalineHelp, hold his brows! he’ll swoon! Why look you pale?
Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy.
198BironThus pour the stars down plagues for perjury.
Can any face of brass hold longer out?
Here stand I: lady, dart thy skill at me;
Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a flout;
Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my ignorance;
Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit;
And I will wish thee never more to dance,
Nor never more in Russian habit wait.
O, never will I trust to speeches penn’d,
Nor to the motion of a schoolboy’s tongue,
Nor never come in vizard to my friend,
Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper’s song!
Taffeta phrases, silken terms precise,
Three-piled hyperboles, spruce affectation,
Figures pedantical; these summer-flies
Have blown me full of maggot ostentation:
I do forswear them; and I here protest,
By this white glove—how white the hand, God knows!—
Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express’d
In russet yeas and honest kersey noes:
And, to begin, wench—so God help me, la!—
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.
199RosalineSans sans, I pray you.
200BironYet I have a trick
Of the old rage: bear with me, I am sick;
I’ll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see:
Write, “Lord have mercy on us” on those three;
They are infected; in their hearts it lies;
They have the plague, and caught it of your eyes;
These lords are visited; you are not free,
For the Lord’s tokens on you do I see.
201PrincessNo, they are free that gave these tokens to us.
202BironOur states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.
203RosalineIt is not so; for how can this be true,
That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?
204BironPeace! for I will not have to do with you.
205RosalineNor shall not, if I do as I intend.
206BironSpeak for yourselves; my wit is at an end.
207KingTeach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression
Some fair excuse.
208PrincessThe fairest is confession.
Were not you here but even now disguised?
209KingMadam, I was.
210PrincessAnd were you well advised?
211KingI was, fair madam.
212PrincessWhen you then were here,
What did you whisper in your lady’s ear?
213KingThat more than all the world I did respect her.
214PrincessWhen she shall challenge this, you will reject her.
215KingUpon mine honour, no.
216PrincessPeace, peace! forbear:
Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.
217KingDespise me, when I break this oath of mine.
218PrincessI will: and therefore keep it. Rosaline,
What did the Russian whisper in your ear?
219RosalineMadam, he swore that he did hold me dear
As precious eyesight, and did value me
Above this world; adding thereto moreover
That he would wed me, or else die my lover.
220PrincessGod give thee joy of him! the noble lord
Most honourably doth unhold his word.
221KingWhat mean you, madam? by my life, my troth,
I never swore this lady such an oath.
222RosalineBy heaven, you did; and to confirm it plain,
You gave me this: but take it, sir, again.
223KingMy faith and this the princess I did give:
I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve.
224PrincessPardon 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?
225BironNeither of either; I remit both twain.
I see the trick on’t: here was a consent,
Knowing aforehand of our merriment,
To dash it like a Christmas comedy:
Some carry-tale, some please-man, some slight zany,
Some mumble-news, some trencher-knight, some Dick,
That smiles his cheek in years and knows the trick
To make my lady laugh when she’s disposed,
Told our intents before; which once disclosed,
The ladies did change favours: and then we,
Following the signs, woo’d but the sign of she.
Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
We are again forsworn, in will and error.
Much upon this it is: and might not you To Boyet.
Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
Do not you know my lady’s foot by the squier,
And laugh upon the apple of her eye?
And stand between her back, sir, and the fire,
Holding a trencher, jesting merrily?
You put our page out: go, you are allow’d;
Die when you will, a smock shall be your shroud.
You leer upon me, do you? there’s an eye
Wounds like a leaden sword.
226BoyetFull merrily
Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.
227BironLo, he is tilting straight! Peace! I have done.
228Enter Costard.
229Welcome, pure wit! thou partest a fair fray.
230CostardO Lord, sir, they would know
Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.
231BironWhat, are there but three?
232CostardNo, sir; but it is vara fine,
For every one pursents three.
233BironAnd three times thrice is nine.
234CostardNot 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—
235BironIs not nine.
236CostardUnder correction, sir, we know whereuntil it doth amount.
237BironBy Jove, I always took three threes for nine.
238CostardO Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by reckoning, sir.
239BironHow much is it?
240CostardO Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for mine own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man in one poor man, Pompion the Great, sir.
241BironArt thou one of the Worthies?
242CostardIt pleased them to think me worthy of Pompion the Great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am to stand for him.
243BironGo, bid them prepare.
244CostardWe will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care. Exit.
245KingBiron, they will shame us: let them not approach.
246BironWe are shame-proof, my lord: and ’tis some policy
To have one show worse than the king’s and his company.
247KingI say they shall not come.
248PrincessNay, my good lord, let me o’errule you now:
That sport best pleases that doth least know how:
Where zeal strives to content, and the contents
Dies in the zeal of that which it presents:
Their form confounded makes most form in mirth,
When great things labouring perish in their birth.
249BironA right description of our sport, my lord.
250Enter Armado.
251ArmadoAnointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath as will utter a brace of words. Converses apart with the King, and delivers him a paper.
252PrincessDoth this man serve God?
253BironWhy ask you?
254PrincessHe speaks not like a man of God’s making.
255ArmadoThat is all one, my fair, sweet, honey monarch; for, I protest, the schoolmaster is exceeding fantastical; too too vain, too too vain: but we will put it, as they say, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal couplement! Exit.
256KingHere is like to be a good presence of Worthies. He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the Great; the parish curate, Alexander; Armado’s page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas Maccabaeus:
And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,
These four will change habits, and present the other five.
257BironThere is five in the first show.
258KingYou are deceived; ’tis not so.
259BironThe pedant, the braggart, the hedge-priest, the fool and the boy:—
Abate throw at novum, and the whole world again
Cannot pick out five such, take each one in his vein.
260KingThe ship is under sail, and here she comes amain.
261Enter Costard, for Pompey.
262CostardI Pompey am—
263BoyetYou lie, you are not he.
264CostardI Pompey am—
265BoyetWith libbard’s head on knee.
266BironWell said, old mocker: I must needs be friends with thee.
267CostardI Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big—
268DumainThe Great.
269CostardIt is, “Great,” sir:—
Pompey surnamed the Great;
That oft in field, with targe and shield, did make my foe to sweat:
And travelling along this coast, I here am come by chance,
And lay my arms before the legs of this sweet lass of France,
If your ladyship would say, “Thanks, Pompey,” I had done.
270PrincessGreat thanks, great Pompey.
271Costard’Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect: I made a little fault in “Great.”
272BironMy hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best Worthy.
273Enter Sir Nathaniel, for Alexander.
274NathanielWhen in the world I lived, I was the world’s commander;
By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might:
My scutcheon plain declares that I am Alisander—
275BoyetYour nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right.
276BironYour nose smells “no” in this, most tender-smelling knight.
277PrincessThe conqueror is dismay’d. Proceed, good Alexander.
278NathanielWhen in the world I lived, I was the world’s commander—
279BoyetMost true, ’tis right; you were so, Alisander.
280BironPompey the Great—
281CostardYour servant, and Costard.
282BironTake away the conqueror, take away Alisander.
283CostardTo Sir Nathaniel. O, sir, you have overthrown Alisander the conqueror! You will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds his poll-axe sitting on a close-stool, will be given to Ajax: he will be the ninth Worthy. A conqueror, and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. Nathaniel retires. There, an’t shall please you; a foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and soon dashed. He is a marvellous good neighbour, faith, and a very good bowler: but, for Alisander—alas, you see how ’tis—a little o’erparted. But there are Worthies a-coming will speak their mind in some other sort.
284PrincessStand aside, good Pompey.
285Enter Holofernes, for Judas; and Moth, for Hercules.
286HolofernesGreat Hercules is presented by this imp,
Whose club kill’d Cerberus, that three-headed canis;
And when he was a babe, a child, a shrimp,
Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus.
Quoniam he seemeth in minority,
Ergo I come with this apology.
Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. Moth retires.
Judas I am—
287DumainA Judas!
288HolofernesNot Iscariot, sir.
Judas I am, ycliped Maccabaeus.
289DumainJudas Maccabaeus clipt is plain Judas.
290BironA kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas?
291HolofernesJudas I am—
292DumainThe more shame for you, Judas.
293HolofernesWhat mean you, sir?
294BoyetTo make Judas hang himself.
295HolofernesBegin, sir; you are my elder.
296BironWell followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.
297HolofernesI will not be put out of countenance.
298BironBecause thou hast no face.
299HolofernesWhat is this?
300BoyetA cittern-head.
301DumainThe head of a bodkin.
302BironA Death’s face in a ring.
303LongavilleThe face of an old Roman coin, scarce seen.
304BoyetThe pommel of Caesar’s falchion.
305DumainThe carved-bone face on a flask.
306BironSaint George’s half-cheek in a brooch.
307DumainAy, and in a brooch of lead.
308BironAy, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer.
And now forward; for we have put thee in countenance.
309HolofernesYou have put me out of countenance.
310BironFalse; we have given thee faces.
311HolofernesBut you have out-faced them all.
312BironAn thou wert a lion, we would do so.
313BoyetTherefore, as he is an ass, let him go.
And so adieu, sweet Jude! nay, why dost thou stay?
314DumainFor the latter end of his name.
315BironFor the ass to the Jude; give it him:—Jud-as, away!
316HolofernesThis is not generous, not gentle, not humble.
317BoyetA light for Monsieur Judas! it grows dark, he may stumble. Holofernes retires.
318PrincessAlas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited!
319Enter Armado, for Hector.
320BironHide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms.
321DumainThough my mocks come home by me, I will now be merry.
322KingHector was but a Troyan in respect of this.
323BoyetBut is this Hector?
324KingI think Hector was not so clean-timbered.
325LongavilleHis leg is too big for Hector’s.
326DumainMore calf, certain.
327BoyetNo; he is best indued in the small.
328BironThis cannot be Hector.
329DumainHe’s a god or a painter; for he makes faces.
330ArmadoThe armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift—
331DumainA gilt nutmeg.
332BironA lemon.
333LongavilleStuck with cloves.
334DumainNo, cloven.
335ArmadoPeace!—
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion;
A man so breathed, that certain he would fight; yea
From morn till night, out of his pavilion.
I am that flower—
336DumainThat mint.
337LongavilleThat columbine.
338ArmadoSweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.
339LongavilleI must rather give it the rein, for it runs against Hector.
340DumainAy, and Hector’s a greyhound.
341ArmadoThe sweet war-man is dead and rotten; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breathed, he was a man. But I will forward with my device. To the Princess. Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.
342PrincessSpeak, brave Hector: we are much delighted.
343ArmadoI do adore thy sweet grace’s slipper.
344BoyetAside to Dumain. Loves her by the foot—
345DumainAside to Boyet. He may not by the yard.
346ArmadoThis Hector far surmounted Hannibal—
347CostardThe party is gone, fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.
348ArmadoWhat meanest thou?
349CostardFaith, unless you play the honest Troyan, the poor wench is cast away: she’s quick; the child brags in her belly already: ’tis yours.
350ArmadoDost thou infamonize me among potentates? thou shalt die.
351CostardThen shall Hector be whipped for Jaquenetta that is quick by him and hanged for Pompey that is dead by him.
352DumainMost rare Pompey!
353BoyetRenowned Pompey!
354BironGreater than great, great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the Huge!
355DumainHector trembles.
356BironPompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! stir them on! stir them on!
357DumainHector will challenge him.
358BironAy, if a’ have no man’s blood in’s belly than will sup a flea.
359ArmadoBy the north pole, I do challenge thee.
360CostardI will not fight with a pole, like a northern man: I’ll slash; I’ll do it by the sword. I bepray you, let me borrow my arms again.
361DumainRoom for the incensed Worthies!
362CostardI’ll do it in my shirt.
363DumainMost resolute Pompey!
364MothMaster, let me take you a button-hole lower. Do you not see Pompey is uncasing for the combat? What mean you? You will lose your reputation.
365ArmadoGentlemen and soldiers, pardon me; I will not combat in my shirt.
366DumainYou may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge.
367ArmadoSweet bloods, I both may and will.
368BironWhat reason have you for’t?
369ArmadoThe naked truth of it is, I have no shirt; I go woolward for penance.
370BoyetTrue, and it was enjoined him in Rome for want of linen: since when, I’ll be sworn, he wore none but a dishclout of Jaquenetta’s, and that a’ wears next his heart for a favour.
371Enter Mercade.
372MercadeGod save you, madam!
373PrincessWelcome, Mercade;
But that thou interrupt’st our merriment.
374MercadeI am sorry, madam; for the news I bring
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father—
375PrincessDead, for my life!
376MercadeEven so; my tale is told.
377BironWorthies, away! the scene begins to cloud.
378ArmadoFor mine own part, I breathe free breath. I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a soldier. Exeunt Worthies.
379KingHow fares your majesty?
380PrincessBoyet, prepare; I will away to-night.
381KingMadam, not so; I do beseech you, stay.
382PrincessPrepare, I say. I thank you, gracious lords,
For all your fair endeavours; and entreat,
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe
In your rich wisdom to excuse or hide
The liberal opposition of our spirits,
If over-boldly we have borne ourselves
In the converse of breath: your gentleness
Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!
A heavy heart bears not a nimble tongue:
Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
For my great suit so easily obtain’d.
383KingThe extreme parts of time extremely forms
All causes to the purpose of his speed,
And often at his very loose decides
That which long process could not arbitrate:
And though the mourning brow of progeny
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love
The holy suit which fain it would convince,
Yet, since love’s argument was first on foot,
Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it
From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost
Is not by much so wholesome-profitable
As to rejoice at friends but newly found.
384PrincessI understand you not: my griefs are double.
385BironHonest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;
And by these badges understand the king.
For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
Play’d foul play with our oaths: your beauty, ladies,
Hath much deform’d us, fashioning our humours
Even to the opposed end of our intents:
And what in us hath seem’d ridiculous—
As love is full of unbefitting strains,
All wanton as a child, skipping and vain,
Form’d by the eye and therefore, like the eye,
Full of strange shapes, of habits and of forms,
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roll
To every varied object in his glance:
Which parti-coated presence of loose love
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes,
Have misbecomed our oaths and gravities,
Those heavenly eyes, that look into these faults,
Suggested us to make. Therefore, ladies,
Our love being yours, the error that love makes
Is likewise yours: we to ourselves prove false,
By being once false for ever to be true
To those that make us both—fair ladies, you:
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin,
Thus purifies itself and turns to grace.
386PrincessWe have received your letters full of love;
Your favours, the ambassadors of love;
And, in our maiden council, rated them
At courtship, pleasant jest and courtesy,
As bombast and as lining to the time:
But more devout than this in our respects
Have we not been; and therefore met your loves
In their own fashion, like a merriment.
387DumainOur letters, madam, show’d much more than jest.
388LongavilleSo did our looks.
389RosalineWe did not quote them so.
390KingNow, at the latest minute of the hour,
Grant us your loves.
391PrincessA time, methinks, too short
To make a world-without-end bargain in.
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjured much,
Full of dear guiltiness; and therefore this:
If for my love, as there is no such cause,
You will do aught, this shall you do for me:
Your oath I will not trust; but go with speed
To some forlorn and naked hermitage,
Remote from all the pleasures of the world;
There stay until the twelve celestial signs
Have brought about the annual reckoning.
If this austere insociable life
Change not your offer made in heat of blood;
If frosts and fasts, hard lodging and thin weeds
Nip not the gaudy blossoms of your love,
But that it bear this trial and last love;
Then, at the expiration of the year,
Come challenge me, challenge me by these deserts,
And, by this virgin palm now kissing thine,
I will be thine; and till that instant shut
My woeful self up in a mourning house,
Raining the tears of lamentation
For the remembrance of my father’s death.
If this thou do deny, let our hands part,
Neither intitled in the other’s heart.
392KingIf this, or more than this, I would deny,
To flatter up these powers of mine with rest,
The sudden hand of death close up mine eye!
Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast.
393BironAnd what to me, my love? and what to me?
394RosalineYou must be purged too, your sins are rack’d,
You are attaint with faults and perjury:
Therefore if you my favour mean to get,
A twelvemonth shall you spend, and never rest,
But seek the weary beds of people sick.
395DumainBut what to me, my love? but what to me?
A wife?
396KatharineA beard, fair health, and honesty;
With three-fold love I wish you all these three.
397DumainO, shall I say, I thank you, gentle wife?
398KatharineNot 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.
399DumainI’ll serve thee true and faithfully till then.
400KatharineYet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again.
401LongavilleWhat says Maria?
402MariaAt the twelvemonth’s end
I’ll change my black gown for a faithful friend.
403LongavilleI’ll stay with patience; but the time is long.
404MariaThe liker you; few taller are so young.
405BironStudies my lady? mistress, look on me;
Behold the window of my heart, mine eye,
What humble suit attends thy answer there:
Impose some service on me for thy love.
406RosalineOft have I heard of you, my Lord Biron,
Before I saw you; and the world’s large tongue
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks,
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts,
Which you on all estates will execute
That lie within the mercy of your wit.
To weed this wormwood from your fruitful brain,
And therewithal to win me, if you please,
Without the which I am not to be won,
You shall this twelvemonth term from day to day
Visit the speechless sick and still converse
With groaning wretches; and your task shall be,
With all the fierce endeavour of your wit
To enforce the pained impotent to smile.
407BironTo move wild laughter in the throat of death?
It cannot be; it is impossible:
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.
408RosalineWhy, that’s the way to choke a gibing spirit,
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace
Which shallow laughing hearers give to fools:
A jest’s prosperity lies in the ear
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
Of him that makes it: then, if sickly ears,
Deaf’d with the clamours of their own dear groans,
Will hear your idle scorns, continue then,
And I will have you and that fault withal;
But if they will not, throw away that spirit,
And I shall find you empty of that fault,
Right joyful of your reformation.
409BironA twelvemonth! well; befall what will befall,
I’ll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital.
410PrincessTo the King. Ay, sweet my lord; and so I take my leave.
411KingNo, madam; we will bring you on your way.
412BironOur wooing doth not end like an old play;
Jack hath not Jill: these ladies’ courtesy
Might well have made our sport a comedy.
413KingCome, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,
And then ’twill end.
414BironThat’s too long for a play.
415Reenter Armado.
416ArmadoSweet majesty, vouchsafe me—
417PrincessWas not that Hector?
418DumainThe worthy knight of Troy.
419ArmadoI will kiss thy royal finger, and take leave. I am a votary; I have vowed to Jaquenetta to hold the plough for her sweet love three years. But, most esteemed greatness, will you hear the dialogue that the two learned men have compiled in praise of the owl and the cuckoo? it should have followed in the end of our show.
420KingCall them forth quickly; we will do so.
421ArmadoHolla! approach.
422Reenter Holofernes, Nathaniel, Moth, Costard, and others.
423This side is Hiems, Winter, this Ver, the Spring; the one maintained by the owl, the other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin.
424The Song.
425Spring.
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws
And merry larks are ploughmen’s clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo;
Cuckoo, cuckoo: O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
Winter.
When icicles hang by the wall
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail
And Tom bears logs into the hall
And milk comes frozen home in pail,
When blood is nipp’d and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
When all aloud the wind doth blow
And coughing drowns the parson’s saw
And birds sit brooding in the snow
And Marian’s nose looks red and raw,
When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit;
Tu-who, a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.
426ArmadoThe words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You that way: we this way. Exeunt.