In their own shapes; for it can never be, Boyet. They will, they will, God knows; And leap for joy, though they are lame with blows: Therefore, change favours; and when they repair, Blow like sweet roses in the summer air. Prin. How blow? how blow? speak to be understood. Boyet. Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in their bud: Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture shown, Are angels veiling clouds, or roses blown. Prin. Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do, If they return in their own shapes to woo? Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be advis'd, Let's mock them still, as well known, as disguis'd: Let us complain to them what fools were here, Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless' gear; And wonder what they were; and to what end Their shall w shows, and prologue vilely penn'd, And their rough carriage so ridiculous, Should be presented at our tent to us. Boyel. Ladies, withdraw; the gallants are at hand. Prin. Whip to our tents, as roes run over land. [Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. and Maria. Enter the King, Biron, Longaville, and Dumain, in their proper habits. King. Fair sir, God save you! Where is the princess? Boyet. Gone to her tent: Please it your majesty, 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. And utters it again when God doth please: King, A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart, That put Armado's page out of his part! Till this man show'd thee? and what art thou now? King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time of day! Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. King. Construe my speeches better, if you may. Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you leave. King. We came to visit you; and purpose now To lead you to our court: vouchsafe it then. Prin. This field shall hold me; and so hold your VOW: Nor God, nor I, delight in perjur'd men. King. Rebuke me not for that which you provoke; The virtue of your eye must break my oath. Prin. You nick-name 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. King. O, you have liv'd in desolation here, Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame. Prin. Not so, my lord; it is not so, I swear. We have had pastimes here, and pleasant game; A mess of Russians left us but of late. 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; My lady (to the manner of the days,) In courtesy, gives undeserving praise. We four, indeed, confronted here 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. dare not call them fools; but this I think, When they are thirsty, fools would fain have drink. Biron. This jest is dry to me-Fair, gentle sweet, Your wit makes wise things foolish; when we greet eye, 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. Ros. Which of the visors was it, that you wore ? Biron. Where? when? what visor? why de mand you this? Can any face of brass hold longer out?— Here stand 1, 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; The tooth of the horse-whale. (6) After the fashion of the times. 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 school-boy's tongue; Nor never come in visor to my friend;1 Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: Taffata phrases, silken terms precise, Three-pil'd 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 Henceforth my wooing mind shall be express'd Prin. No, they are free, that gave these tokens Prin. When she shall challenge this, you will reject her. King. Upon mine honour, no. Peace, peace, forbear; 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 car? Ros. Madam, he swore, that he did hold me dear As precious eye-sight; and did value me 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. Kiag. 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. King. My faith, and this, the princess I did give; I knew her by this jewel on her sleeve. Prin. Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear; And lord Birón, I thank him, is my dear :What; will you have me, or your pearl again? Biron. Neither of either; I remit both twain. (1) Mistress. (2) Make no difficulty. 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 That smiles his cheek in years; and knows the trick [To Boyet. Forestal our sport, to make us thus untrue? Cost. O Lord, sir, the parties themselves, the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth amount: for my own part, I am, as they say, but to parfect one man,-e'en one poor man; Pompion the great, sir. Biron. Art thou one of the worthies? Cost. It pleased them, to think me worthy of Pompion the great: for mine own part, I know not the degree of the worthy: but I am to stand for him. Biron. Go, bid them prepare. some care. Cost. We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take [Exit Costard, King, Birón, they will shame us, let them not approach. Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord: and 'tis some policy To have one show worse than the king's and his Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not; for it stands too right. That sport best pleases, that doth least know how: My 'scutcheon plain declares, that I am Alisander. Enter Armado. Arm. Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath, as will utter a brace of words. [Armado converses with the King, and delivers him a paper. Prin. Doth this man serve God? Biron. Your nose smells, no, in this, most tender-smelling knight. Prin. The conqueror is dismay'd: Proceed, good Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander ;→→ Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, Ali- Biron. Pompey the great,- Prin. He speaks not like a man of God's making. Arm. That's all one, my fair, sweet, honey Alisander the conqueror? You will be scraped out Cost. O, sir, [To Nath.] you have overthrown monarch: for, I protest, the school-master is exof the painted cloth for this: your lion, that holds cecding fantastical; too, too vain; too, too vain : But we will put it, as they say, to fortuna della his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to guerra. I wish you the peace of mind, most royal Ajax, he will be the ninth worthy. A conqueror, couplement ! [Exit Armado. and afeard to speak! run away for shame, Alisander. [Nath. retires.] There, an't shall please you ; King. Here is like to be a good presence of wora foolish mild man; an honest man, look you, and thies: He presents Hector of Troy; the swain, Pompey the great; the parish curate, Alexander; soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good neighbour, Armado's page, Hercules; the pedant, Judas in sooth; 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. Machabæus. And if these four worthies in their first show thrive, other five. Biron. There is five in the first show. Abate a throw at novum; and the whole world Cannot prick out five such, take each one in his vein. amain. [Seats brought for the King, Princess, &c. Pageant of the Nine Worthies. Enter Costard arm'd, for Pompey. Cost. I Pompey am,- Cost. I Pompey am, Boyet. You lie, you are not he. With libbard's head on knee. Biron. Well said, old mocker; I must needs be Cost. I Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd the big,— Cost. It is great, sir;-Pompey surnam'd the 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. Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. Cost. 'Tis not so much worth; but, I hope, I was perfect: I made a little fault in, great. Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey proves the best worthy. Enter Nathaniel arm'd, for Alexander. Nath. When in the world I liv'd, I was the world's commander ; By east, west, north, and south, I spread my conquering might: Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. Hol. Great Hercules is presented by this imp, Dum. A Judas! Hol. Not Iscariot, sir. Judas I am, ycleped Machabæus. Dum. Judas Machabæus clipt, is plain Judas. Hol. But you have out-fac'd them all. Biron. An thou wert a lion, we would do so. 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. 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. Prin. Alas, poor Machabæus, how hath he been baited! Enter Armado arm'd, for Hector. Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles: here comes Hector in arms. Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, will now be merry. King. Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this. Dum. I think, Hector was not so clean-timber'd. Boyet. No; he is best indued in the small. I Dum. He's a god or a painter; for he makes faces. Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gare Hector a gift Dum. A gilt nutmeg Long. Stuck with cloves. Dum. No, cloven. Arm. Peace. The armnipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, Gave Hector a gift, the heir of Ilion; A man so breath'd, that certain he would fight, yea I am that flower,— Dum. Long. That mint. That columbine. 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 chucks, beat not the bones of the buried: when he breath'd, he was a man-But I will forward with my device: Sweet royalty, [to the Princess.] bestow on me the sense of hearing. [Biron whispers Costard. Pompey! Pompey the huge! Dum. Hector trembles. Biron. Pompey is mov'd:-More Ates, more Ates; stir them on! stir them on! Dum. Hector will challenge hin. Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood in's belly 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; I'il slash; I'll do it by the sword :-I pray you, let me borrow my arms again. Dum. Room for the incensed worthies. Dum. Most resolute Pompey! Moth. Master, 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. Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me: I will not combat in my shirt. Dum. You may not deny it: Pompey hath made the challenge. Enter Mercade. Mer. God save you, madam! But that thou interrupt'st our merriment. Mer. Even so; my tale is told. Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free breath: I have seen the day of wrong through the little hole of discretion, and I will right myself like a isoldier. [Exeunt Worthies. King. How fares your majesty ? 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, For all your fair endeavours; and entreat, Prin. Speak, brave Hector; we are much de-Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe lighted. Arm. I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. Boyet. Loves her by the foot. Dum. He may not by the yard. In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide, Arm. This Hector far surmounted Hannibal,-Was guilty of it.--Farewell, worthy lord! Cost. The party is gone, fellow Hector, she is A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue : gone; she is two months on her way. Arin. What meanest thou? Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Trojan, the poor wench is cast away: she's quick; the child brags in her belly already; 'tis yours. tates? thou shalt die. Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks King. The extreme parts of time extremely form Arm. Dost thou infamonize me among poten- That which long process could not arbitrate: And though the mourning brow of progeny Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for Jacque-Forbid the smiling courtesy of love, netta that is quick by him; and hang'd, for Pom- The holy suit which fain it would convince; pey that is dead by him. Dum. Most rare Pompey ! Boyet. Renowned Pompey! Yet, since love's argument was first on foot, From what it purposed; since, to wail friends lost, Biron. Greater than great, great, great, great, Is not by much so wholesome, profitable, (1) Lance-men. (2) Até was the goddess of discord. (3) A clown. (4) Clothed in wool, without linen. (5) Free to excees. As to rejoice at friends but newly found. Biron, Honest plain words best pierce the ear And by these badges understand the king. To those that make us both :-fair ladies, you: Biron. And what to me, my love? and what Ros. You must be purged too, your sins are rank; Dum. But what to me, my love? but what to me? With three-fold love I wish you all these three. I'll mark no words that smooth-fac'd wooers say: Dum. I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then. Mar. At the twelvemonth's end, Mar. The liker you; few taller are so young. Prin. We have receiv'd your letters full of love; Impose some service on me for thy love. Your favours the embassadors of love; Long. So did our looks, Change not your offer made in heat of blood; King. If this, or more than this, I would deny, Ros. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Birón, Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat of It cannot be; it is impossible: Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. Ros. Why, that's the way to choke a gibing spirit, Of him that hears it, never in the tongue groans, Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, Biron. A twelvemonth? well, befall what will I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. leave. way. Biron. Our wooing doth not end like an old play; (5) Immediate. |