Ber. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine. Dum. O that I had my wish!

Long.

And I had mine! 92

King. And [I] mine too, good Lord!

Ber. Amen, so I had mine. Is not that a good word? Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be.

Ber. A fever in your blood! why, then incision Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision!

96

Dum. Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ.
Ber. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. 100
Dumaine reads his Sonnet.

Dum. 'On a day, alack the day!
Love, whose month is ever May,

Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:

104

Through the velvet leaves the wind,

All unseen, can passage find;

That the lover, sick to death,

Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.

108

Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!
But alack! my hand is sworn

Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack! for youth unmeet,
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet.

Do not call it sin in me,

That I am forsworn for thee;

112

116

97 incision: blood-letting misprision: mistake

Thou for whom e'en Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop were;

And deny himself for Jove,

Turning mortal for thy love.'

This will I send, and something else more plain,
That shall express my true love's fasting pain.
O would the King, Berowne, and Longaville
Were lovers too! Ill, to example ill,

Would from my forehead wipe a perjur'd note;
For none offend where all alike do dote.

120

124

Long. [Advancing.] Dumaine, thy love is far from charity,

That in love's grief desir'st society:

You may look pale, but I should blush, I know,

To be o'erheard and taken napping so.

128

King. [Advancing.] Come, sir, you blush: as his

your case is such;

You chide at him, offending twice as much:

You do not love Maria; Longaville

132

136

Did never sonnet for her sake compile,
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart
His loving bosom to keep down his heart.
I have been closely shrouded in this bush,
And mark'd you both, and for you both did blush.
I heard your guilty rimes, observ'd your fashion,
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your passion: 140
Ay me! says one; O Jove! the other cries;

One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's eyes:
[To Longaville.] You would for paradise break faith
and troth;

[To Dumaine.] And Jove, for your love, would infringe an oath.

118 Ethiop: i.e. black as a negro

124 example: furnish a precedent for

144

122 fasting: hungry, longing

What will Berowne say, when that he shall hear
Faith infringed, which such zeal did swear?
How will he scorn! how will he spend his wit!
How will he triumph, leap and laugh at it!
For all the wealth that ever I did see,
I would not have him know so much by me.
Ber. Now step I forth to whip hypocrisy.

148

152

[Descends from the tree.] Ah! good my liege, I pray thee, pardon me: Good heart! what grace hast thou, thus to reprove These worms for loving, that art most in love? Your eyes do make no coaches; in your tears There is no certain princess that appears: You'll not be perjur'd, 'tis a hateful thing: Tush! none but minstrels like of sonneting. But are you not asham'd! nay, are you not, All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot?

156

160

You found his mote; the king your mote did see;
But I a beam do find in each of three.
O what a scene of foolery have I seen,
Of sighs, of groans, of sorrow, and of teen!

164

O me! with what strict patience have I sat,

To see a king transformed to a gnat;

To see great Hercules whipping a gig,
And profound Solomon to tune a jig,

168

And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys,
And critic Timon laugh at idle toys!

Where lies thy grief? O! tell me, good Dumaine.
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain?
And where my liege's? all about the breast:

172

150 by: about

158 like of: like 160 o'ershot: wide of the mark

161 You: i.e. Longaville his: i.e. Dumaine's

164 teen: grief, pain

167 gig: top

169 push-pin: a child's game with pins

170 critic: cynic toys: trifles

166 gnat: a singing insect

168 tune: play, or hum

A caudle, ho!
King.

Too bitter is thy jest.

Are we betray'd thus to thy over-view?

Ber. Not you by me, but I betray'd to you:

I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin
To break the vow I am engaged in;
I am betray'd, by keeping company
With men like [men,] men of inconstancy.
When shall you see me write a thing in rime?
Or groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time
In pruning me? When shall you hear that I
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye,
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waist,
A leg, a limb?—

King.

Soft! Whither away so fast?

A true man or a thief that gallops so?
Ber. I post from love; good lover, let me go.

Enter Jaquenetta and Clown [Costard].

Jaq. God bless the king!

King.

176

180

184

188

What present hast thou there?

Cost. Some certain treason.
King.

What makes treason here?

If it mar nothing neither,

Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. King. The treason and you go in peace away together. Jaq. I beseech your Grace, let this letter be read: Our parson misdoubts it; 'twas treason, he said. King. Berowne, read it over.

192

He [i.e. Berowne] reads the letter [in dumbshow].

Where hadst thou it?

174 caudle: a warm gruel, containing wine and spice, for the sick 180 Cf. n.

185 state: attitude, pose

190 makes: does

196

183 pruning: adorning

189 present: paper to be presented

194 misdoubts: suspects

Jaq. Of Costard.

King. Where hadst thou it?

Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio.

[Berowne tears the letter.]

King. How now! what is in you? why dost thou tear it?

200

Ber. A toy, my liege, a toy: your Grace needs not fear it.

Long. It did move him to passion, and therefore let's hear it.

Dum. [Picking up the pieces.] It is Berowne's writing, and here is his name.

Ber. [To Costard.] Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, you were born to do me shame.

Guilty, my lord, guilty; I confess, I confess.

King. What?

204

Ber. That you three fools lack'd me fool to make up the mess;

He, he, and you, and you my liege, and I,

Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die.

O dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you more.
Dum. Now the number is even.

Ber.

Will these turtles be gone?

King.

208

True, true; we are four.

Hence, sirs; away! 212

Cost. Walk aside the true folk, and let the traitors

stay.

[Exeunt Costard and Jaquenetta.]

Ber. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O! let us embrace.
As true we are as flesh and blood can be:
The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show his face;

207 mess: four persons at one table
212 turtles: turtle-doves, lovers

sirs; cf. m.

216