Imatges de pÓgina

Prin. Why, will shall break it; will, and nothing| else.

King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were wise. Where' now his knowledge must prove ignorance. I hear, your grace hath sworn out house-keeping: 'Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord, And sin to break it:

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But pardon me, I am too sudden-bold;
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me.
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming,
And suddenly resolve me in my suit.

[Gives a paper. King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may." Prin. You will the sooner, that I were away; For you'll prove perjur'd, if you make me stay. Biron. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?

Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant once?
Biron. I know, you did.

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How needless was it then

You must not be so quick.

Ros. 'Tis 'long of you that spur me with such


Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast,

'twill tire.

Ros. Not till it leaves the rider in the mire.

Biron. What time o' day?

Ros. The hour that fools should ask.

Biron. Now fair befall your mask!

Ros. Fair fall the face it covers!
Biron. And send you many lovers!
Ros. Amen, so you be none.

Biron. Nay, then will I be gone.

King. Madam, your father here doth intimate, The payment of a hundred thousand crowns; Being but the one half of an entire sum, Disbursed by my father in his wars.

But say, that he, or we (as neither have,)
Receiv'd that sum; yet there remains unpaid

A hundred thousand more; in surety of the which,
One part of Aquitain is bound to us,
Although not valued to the money's worth.
If then the king your father will restore
But that one half which is unsatisfied,
We will give up our right in Aquitain,
And hold fair friendship with his majesty.
But that, it seems, he little purposeth,
For here he doth demand to have repaid

A hundred thousand crowns; and not demands,
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns,
To have his title live in Aquitain;

Which we much rather had depart withal,
And have the money by our father lent,
Than Aquitain so gelde, as it is.

Dear princess, were not his requests so far
From reason's yielding, your fair self should make
A yielding, 'gainst some reason, in my breast,
And go well satisfied to France again.

Prin. You do the king my father too much wrong,
And wrong the reputation of your name,
In so unseeming to confess receipt
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid.
King. I do protest, I never heard of it;
And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back,
Or vield up Aquitain.


Boyet, you can produce acquittances, For such a sum, from special officers Of Charles his father.

Boyet. So please your grace, the packet is not


Where that and other specialities are bound,
To-morrow you shall have a sight of them.

King. It shall suffice me: at which interview
All liberal reason I will yield unto.
Meantime, receive such welcome at my hand,
As honour, without breach of honour, may
Make tender of to thy true worthiness:
You may not come, fair princess, in my gates;
But here without you shall be so receiv'd,
As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart,
Though so denied fair harbour in my house.
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and farewell;
To-morrow shall we visit you again.

Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort your grace!

King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every place! [Exeunt King and his Train Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my own heart.

Ros. 'Pray you, do my commendations; I would be glad to see it.

Biron. I would, you heard it groan?

Ros. Is the fool sick?

Biron. Sick at heart.

Ros. Alack, let it blood.

Biron. Would that do it good?

Ros. My physic says, 1.3

Biron. Will you prick't with your eye?

Ros. No poynt, with my knife.

Biron. Now, God save thy life!

Ros. And yours from long living!
Biron. I cannot stay thanksgiving.


Dum. Sir, I pray you, a word: What lady is

that same?

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[Exit Long.

Biron. What's her name, in the cap? Boyet. Katharine, by good hap. Biron. Is she wedded, or no?" Boyet. To her will, sir, or so. Biron. You are welcome, sir; adieu! Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome to you. Exit Biron.-Ladies unmask. Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap lord; Not a word with him but a jest. Boyet. And every jest but a word. Prin. It was well done of you to take him at his word.

Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was to board.

Mar. Two hot sheeps, marry!

We arrest your word:

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And wherefore not ships?

(1) Whereas.

(2) Part. (3) Ayt yes.

(4) A French particle of negation.

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Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, affected. Prin. Your reason?

Boyet. Why, all his behaviours did make their retire

To the court of his eye, peeping thorough desire:
His heart, like an agate, with your print impressed,
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed,
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not see,
Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to be;
All senses to that sense did make their repair,
To feel only looking on fairest of fair:
Methought, all his senses were lock'd in his eye,
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy:
Who, tendering their own worth, from where they
were glass'd,

Did point you to buy them along as you pass'd.
His face's own margent did quote such amazes,
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with gazes
I'll give you Aquitain, and all that is his,
An you give him for my sake but one loving kiss.
Prin. Come, to our pavilion: Boyet is dispos'd-
Boyet. But to speak that in words, which his
eye hath disclos'd:

I only have made a mouth of his eye,

By adding a tongue which I know will not lie. Ros. Thou art an old love-monger, and speak'st skilfully.

Mar. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns news of him.

Ros. Then was Venus like her mother; for her father is but grim.

Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches?


No. What then, do you see? Ros. Ay, our way to be gone.


You are too hard for me. [Exeunt.

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Arm. Warble, child; make passionate my sense of hearing.

Moth. Concolinel

Arm. How means't thou? brawling in French? Moth. No, my complete master: but to jig off a tune at the tongue's end, canary to it with your feet, humour it with turning up your eyelids; sigh a note, and sing a note; sometime through the throat, as if you swallowed love with singing love; sometime through the nose, as if you snuffed up love by smelling love; with your hat penthouse. like, o'er the shop of your eyes; with your arms crossed on your thin belly-doublet, like a rabbit on a spit; or your hands in your pocket, like a man after the old painting; and keep not too long in one tune, but a snip and away: These are com plements, these are humours; these betray nice wenches-that would be betrayed without these and make them men of note (do you note, men ?) that are most affected to these.

Arm. How hast thou purchased this experience?
Moth. By my penny of observation.
Arm. But 0,-but ̊0,-

Moth. the hobby-horse is forgot.

Arm. Callest thou my love, hobby-horse?

Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but a colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney. But have you forgot your love?

Arm. Almost I had.

Moth. Negligent student! learn her by heart. Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy.

Moth. And out of heart, master: all those three I will prove.

Arm. What wilt thou prove?

Moth. A man, if I live: and this, by, in, and without, upon the instant: By heart you love her, because your heart cannot come by her; in heart you love her, because your heart is in love with her; and out of heart you love her, being out of heart that you cannot enjoy her.

Arm. I am all these three.

Moth. And three times as much more, and yet nothing at all!

Arm. Fetch hither the swain; he must carry me a letter.

Moth. A message well sympathised; a horse to be ambassador for an ass!

Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou?

Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass upon the horse, for he is very slow-gaited: But I go. Arm. The way is but short; away.

Moth. As swift as lead, sir.

Arm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious?

Is not lead a metal heavy, dull, and slow? Moth. Minimé, honest master; or rather, master, no.

Arm. I say, lead is slow.


You are too swift,' sir, to say so; Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun? Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric!

He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's


I shoot thee at the swain. Moth.

Thump then, and I flec.


Arm. A most acute juvenal; voluble and free

of grace!

[Singing. By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in thy face; Arm. Sweet air!-Go, tenderness of years; take Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. this key, give enlargement to the swain, bring him My herald is return'd. festinately hither; I must employ him in a letter

to my love.

Moth. Master, will you win your love with a French brawl ?1

Re-enter Moth and Costard.

Moth. A wonder, master; here's a Costard broken in a shin.

(1) A qu'hble, several signified unenclosed lands. (2) Has' y. (3) A kind of dance.

(4) Cana was the name of a sprightly dance. (5 Quick, ready. (6) A head.

Arm. Some enigma, some .ddle: come,-thy rance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee nothing Penvoy;-begin. but this: Bear this significant to the country-maid Cost. No egma, no riddle, no l'envoy; no salve Jaquenetta: there is remuneration; [Giving him in the mail, sir: Ó, sir, plantain, a plain plantain; money.] for the best ward of mine honour, is, reno l'envoy, no l'envoy, no salve, sir, but a plantain !warding my dependents. Moth, follow. [Frit. Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; thy Moth. Like the sequel, I.-Signior Costard, silly thought, my spleen; the heaving of my lungs adieu. provokes me to ridiculous smiling: Ö, pardon me, Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh! my inconya my stars! Doth the inconsiderate take salve for Jew![Exit Moth. Penvoy, and the word, l'envoy, for a salve? Now will I look to his remuneratior. RemuneraMoth. Do the wise think them other? is not tion! O, that's the Latin word for three farthings: P'envoy a salve?

Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or discourse to make plain

Some obscure precedence that hath tofore been sain.

I will example it:

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three. There's the moral: Now the l'envoy.

Moth. I will add the l'envoy: Say the moral again.

Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee,
Were still at odds, being but three:
Moth. Until the goose came out of door,
And stay'd the odds by adding four.

Now will I begin your moral, and do you follow with my Penvoy.

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, Were still at odds, being but three: Arm. Until the goose came out of door, Staying the odds by adding four.

Moth. A good l'envoy, ending in the goose; Would you desire more?

Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a goose, that's flat:

Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose be fat.

To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast and loose:

Let me see a fat l'envoy; ay, that's a fat goose. Arm. Come hither, come hither: How did this argument begin?

Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken in a shin.

Then call'd you for the l'envoy.

Cost. True, and I for a plantain; Thus came your argument in;

Then the boy's fat l'envoy, the goose that you bought;

And he ended the market.

Arm. But tell me; how was there a Costard broken in a shin?

Moth. I will tell you sensibly.

Cost. Thou hast no feeling of it, Moth; I will speak that l'envoy :

I, Costard, running out, that was safely within,
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin.

three farthings-remuneration.—What's the price of this inkle? a penny:-No, I'll give you a remuneration: why, it carries it.-Remuneration!why, it is a fairer name than French crown. I will never buy and sell out of this word.

Enter Biron.

Biron. O, my good knave Costard! exceedingly well met.

Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration? Biron. What is a remuneration?

Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing.

Birom. O, why then, three-farthings-worth of silk.
Cost. I thank your worship: God be with you!
Biron. O, stay, slave; I must employ thee:
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave,
Do one thing for me that I shall entreat.

Cost. When would you have it done, sir?
Biron. O, this afternoon.

Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: Fare you well.
Biron. O, thou knowest not what it is.
Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it.
Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first.
Cost. I will come to your worship to-morrow

Biron. It must be done this afternoon. Hark, slave, is but this ;

The princess comes to hunt here in the park,
And in her train there is a gentle lady;
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name her

And Rosaline they call her ask for her;
And to her white hand see thou do commend
This seal'd-up counsel. There's thy guerdon; go.
[Gives him money.

Cost. Guerdon,-O sweet guerdon! better than remuneration; eleven-pence farthing better: Most sweet guerdon!—I will do it, sir, in print.-Guerdon-remuneration. [Exit.

Biron. O-And I, forsooth, in love! that have been love's whip;

A very beadle to a humourous sigh; A critic; nay, a night-watch constable; A domineering pedant o'er the boy, Than whom no mortal so magnificent! This whimpled, whining, purblind, wayward boy; This senior-junior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms, The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, Liege of all loiterers and malcontents, Dread prince of plackets, king of codpieces, Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting thee at Sole imperator, and great general liberty, enfreedoming thy person; thou wert im-Of trotting paritors,-O my little heart!mured, restrained, captivated, bound.

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. Cost. Till there be no more matter in the shin. Arm. Sirrah Costard, I will enfranchise thee. Cost. O, marry me to one Frances:-I smell some l'envoy, some goose, in this.

And I to be a corporal of his field,

Cost. True, true; and now you will be my pur-And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop! gation, and let me loose.

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from du

(1) An old French term for concluding verses, which served either to convey the moral, or to address the poem to some person. (2) Delightful. (3) Reward.

What? I! I love! I sue! I seek a wife!
A woman, that is like a German clock,

(4) With the utmost exactness. (5) Hooded, veiled. (6) Petticoats. (7) The officers of the spiritual courts who serve citations.

Still a repairing; ever out of frame;
And never going aright, being a watch,
But being watch'd that it may still go right?
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all;
And, among three, to love the worst of all;
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow,
With two pitch balls stuck in her face for eyes;
Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed,
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard:
And I to sigh for her! to watch for her!
To pray for her! Go to; it is a plague
That Cupid will impose for my neglect
Of his almighty dreadful little might.
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and groan;
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan.



SCENE I-Another part of the same.
the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, Boyet,
Lords, attendants, and a Forester.

Against the steep uprising of the hill?

Boyet. I know not; but, I think, it was not he.
Prin. Whoe'er he was, he show'd a mounting

Well, lords, to-day we shall have our despatch;
On Saturday we will return to France.-
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush,
That we must stand and play the murderer in ?
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder coppice;
A stand, where you may make the fairest shoot.
Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that shoot,
And thereupon thou speak'st, the fairest shoot.
For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant not so.
Prin. What, what? first praise me, and again
say, no?

Enter Costard.

Prin. Here comes a member of the common wealth.

Cost. God dig-you-den' all! Pray you, which is the head lady?

Prin. Thou shalt know her, fellow, by the rest that have no heads.

Cost. Which is the greatest lady, the highest?
Prin. The thickest, and the tallest.

Cust. The thickest, and the tallest! it is so; truth
is truth.

An your waist, mistress, were as slender as my wit,
One of these maids' girdles for your waist should

be fit.

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Enter Stand aside, good bearer.-Boyet, you can carve ; Break up this capon. Boyet. I am bound to serve.This letter is mistook, it importeth none here; Prin. Was that the king, that spurr'd his horse It is writ to Jaquenetta. so hard Prin. We will read it, I swear: Break the neck of the wax, and every one give ear. Boyet. [Reads.] By heaven, that thou art fair, is most infallible; true, that thou art beauteous; truth itself, that thou art lovely: More fairer than fair, beautiful than beauteous; truer than truth itself, have commiseration on thy heroical vassal! The magnanimous and most illustrate king Cophetua set eye upon the pernicious and indubitate beggar Zenelophon; and he it was that might rightly say, veni, vidi, vici; which to anatomize in the vulgar (O base and obscure vulgar!) videlicet, he came, saw, and overcame: he came, one; saw, two; overcame three. Who came? the king; Why did he come? to see; Why did he see? to overcome: To whom came he? to the beggar; What saw he? the beggar; Who overcame he? the beggar: The conclusion is victory; On whose side? the king's: the captive is enriched; On whose side? the beggar's; The catastrophe is a nuptial; On whose side? the king's-no, on both in one, or one in both. I am the king; for so stands the comparison: thou the beggar; for so witnesseth thy For. Nothing but fair is that which you inherit. lowliness. Shall I command thy love? I may : Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd by merit. Shall I enforce thy love? I could: Shall I entreat O heresy in fair, fit for these days! thy love? I will. What shalt thou exchange for

O short-liv'd pride! Not fair? alack for wo!
For. Yea, madam, fair.
Nay, never paint me now;
Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the brow.
Here, good my glass, take this for telling true;
[Giving him money.

Fair payment for foul words is more than due.

A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair praise.-rags? robes; For tiltles, titles: For thyself, me.

But come, the bow:-Now mercy goes to kill,

A shooting well is then accounted ill.

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If wounding, then it was to show my skill,'

Thus, expecting thy reply, I profane my lips on thy
foot, my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on thy
every part.

Thine, in the dearest design of industry,
Don Adriano de Armado.

That more for praise, than purpose, meant to kill. Thus dost thou hear the Nemean lion roa

And, out of question, so it is sometimes;
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes.
When, for fame's sake, for praise, an outward part,
We bend to that the working of the heart:
As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means no ill.
Boyet. Do not curst wives hold that self-sove-

Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be
Lords o'er their lords?

Prin. Only for praise: and praise we may afford
To any lady that subdues a lord.

(1) God give you good even.

(2) Open this letter. (3) Illustrious.

'Gainst thee, thou lamb, that standest as us prey; Submissive fall his princely feet before,

And he from forage will incline to play:
But if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou then?
Food for his rage, repasture for his den.

Prin. What plume of feathers is he, that indited

this letter?

What vane? what weathercock? did you ever hear better?

Boyet. I am much deceived, but I remember

the style.

Prin. Else your memory is bad, going o'er erewhile."

(4) Just now

Boyet. Th Armado is a Spaniard, that keeps When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely, as it here court;

A phantasm, a Monarcho, and one that makes sport
To the prince, and his book-mates.
Thou, fellow, a word:
Who gave thee this letter?
I told you; my lord.
Prin. To whom should'st thou give it ?
From my lord to my lady.
Prin. From which lord, to which lady?
Cost. From my lord Biron, a good master of mine,
To a lady of France, that he call'd Rosaline.
Prin. Thou hast mistaken his letter.
lords, away.
Here, sweet, put up this; 'twill be thine another
[Exit Princess and Train.
Boyet. Who is the suitor? who is the suitor ?
Shall I teach you to know?
Boyet. Ay, my continent of beauty.
Why, she that bears the bow.



Finely put off!
Boyet. My lady goes to kill horns; but, if thou


Hang me by the neck, if horns that year miscarry.
Finely put on!

Ros. Well then, I am the shooter.
And who is your deer?
Ros. If we choose by the horns, yourself: come


Finely put on, indeed!—

Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boyet, and she strikes at the brow.

Boyet. But she herself is hit lower: Have I hit her now?

Ros. Shall I come upon the with an old saying, that was a man when king Pepin of France was a little boy, as touching the hit it?

Boyet. So I may answer thee with one as old, that was a woman when queen Guinever of Britain was a little wench, as touching the hit it. Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit it. [Singing, Thou canst not hit it, my good man. Boyet. An I cannot, cannot, cannot, An I cannot, another can. [Exeunt Ros, and Kath. Cost. By my troth, most pleasant! how both did

fit it!

Mar. A mark marvellous well shot; for they

both did hit it.

Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark; A mark, says my lady!

Let the mark have a prick in't, to mete at, if

may be.


Mar. Wide o' the bow hand! I'faith, your hand is out.

Cost. Indeed, a' must shoot nearer, or he'll ne'er hit the clout.

Boyet. An if my hand be out, then, belike your hand is in.

Cost. Then will she get the upshot by cleaving

the pin.

Mar. Come, come, you talk greasily, your lips grow foul.

Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks, sir; challenge her to bowl. Boyet. I fear too much rubbing; Good night, my good owl. [Exeunt Boyet and Maria. Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most simple clown! Lord, lord! how the ladies and I have put him down! O' my troth, most sweet jests! most incony vulgar wit!

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were, so fit.

Armatho o' the one side,-0, a most dainty man!
To see him walk before a lady, and to bear her fan!
To see him kiss his hand! and how most sweetly
a' will swear!-

And his page o' t'other side, that handful of wit!
Ah, heavens, it is a most pathetical nit!
Sola, sola!

SCENE II.—The same.

[Shouting within. [Exit Costard, running.

Enter Holofernes, Sir

Nathaniel, and Dull.

Nath. Very reverent sport, truly; and done in the testimony of a good conscience.

Hol. The deer was, as you know, in sanguis,blood; ripe as a pomewater, who now hangeth like a jewel ir, the ear of calo,-the sky, the weikin, the heaven; and anon falleth like a crab, on the face of terra,-the soil, the land, the earth.

Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epithets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the least: But, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of the first head. Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo.

Dull. 'Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a pricket. Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a kind of insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, of explication; facere, as it were, replication, or, rather, ostentare, to show, as it were, his inclination,-after his undressed, unpolished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or rather unlettered, or ratherest, uncon firmed fashion-to insert again my haud credo for a deer.

Dull. I said, the deer was not a laud credo; 'twas a pricket.

Hol. Twice sod simplicity, bis coctus!-0 thou monster ignorance, how deformed dost thou look!

Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of... dainties that are bred in a book; he hath not eat paper as it were; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is not replenished; he is only an animal, only sensible in the duller parts;

And such barren plants are set before us, that we
thankful should be

(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those parts
that do fructify in us more than he.
For as it would ill become me to be vain, indiscreet,
or a fool,

So, were there a patch set on learning, to see him

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The allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. 'Tis true indeed; the collusion holds in the exchange.

Hol. God comfort thy capacity! I say, the allusion holds in the exchange.

Dull. And I say the pollution holds in the exchange; for the moon is never but a month old: (3) Reached.

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