The Illustrated Works of Shakespeare/Illustrated Works of Shakespeare, The (1990)(Animated Pixels)[!][CDTV-PC].iso/shakes/text/14/05_02

Text File | 1991-04-10 | 46KB | 1,410 lines

Another part of the Park. Before the Princess's Pavilion.
 Enter the PRINCESS, ROSALINE, KATHARINE, and MARIA.

Princess    Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we depart,
    If fairings come thus plentifully in.
    A lady walled about with diamonds!
    Look you what I have from the loving king.

Rosaline    Madam, came nothing else along with that?

Princess    Nothing but this? Yes, as much love in rhyme
    As would be crammed 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.

Rosaline    That was the way to make his godhead wax;
    For he hath been five thousand year a boy.

Katharine    Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows too.

Rosaline    You'll ne'er be friends with him: a' killed your sister.

Katharine    He 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.

Rosaline    What's your dark meaning, mouse, of this light word?

Katharine    A light condition in a beauty dark.

Rosaline    We need more light to find your meaning out.

Katharine    You'll mar the light by taking it in snuff;
    Therefore I'll darkly end the argument.

Rosaline    Look what you do, you do it still i'the dark.

Katharine    So do not you, for you are a light wench.

Rosaline    Indeed I weigh not you, and therefore light.

Katharine    You weigh me not? O, that's you care not for me.

Rosaline    Great reason, for past care is still past cure.

Princess    Well bandied both! A set of wit well played.
    But, Rosaline, you have a favour too:
    Who sent it? And what is it?

Rosaline                                    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 Berowne;
    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.

Princess    Anything like?

Rosaline    Much in the letters, nothing in the praise.

Princess    Beauteous as ink - a good conclusion.

Katharine    Fair as a text B in a copybook.

Rosaline    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!

Princess    A pox of that jest; and I beshrew all shrows!
    But, Katharine, what was sent to you from fair Dumaine?

Katharine    Madam, this glove.

Princess                        Did he not send you twain?

Katharine    Yes, madam; and, moreover,
    Some thousand verses of a faithful lover;
    A huge translation of hypocrisy,
    Vilely compiled, profound simplicity.

Maria    This, and these pearls, to me sent Longaville.
    The letter is too long by half a mile.

Princess    I think no less. Dost thou not wish in heart
    The chain were longer and the letter short?

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

Princess    We are wise girls to mock our lovers so.

Rosaline    They are worse fools to purchase mocking so.
    That same Berowne I'll torture ere I go.
    O that I knew he were but in by th' 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 Paire-Taunt-like would I o'ersway his state
    That he should be my fool, and I his fate.

Princess    None are so surely caught, when they are catched,
    As wit turned fool. Folly, in wisdom hatched,
    Hath wisdom's warrant and the help of school
    And wit's own grace to grace a learnd fool.

Rosaline    The blood of youth burns not with such excess
    As gravity's revolt to wantonness.

Maria    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.

                               Enter BOYET.

Princess    Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in his face.

Boyet    O, I am stabbed with laughter! Where's her grace?

Princess    Thy news, Boyet?

Boyet                        Prepare, madam, prepare!
    Arm, wenches, arm! Encounters mounted are
    Against your peace. Love doth approach disguised,
    Armd in arguments. You'll be surprised.
    Muster your wits, stand in your own defence;
    Or hide your heads like cowards, and fly hence.

Princess    Saint Denis to Saint Cupid! What are they
    That charge their breath against us? Say, scout, say.

Boyet    Under 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 conned 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 feared her had she been a devil'.
    With that all laughed and clapped him on the shoulder,
    Making the bold wag by their praises bolder.
    One rubbed his elbow thus, and fleered, 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 capered and cried 'All goes well!'
    The fourth turned 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 check their folly, passion's solemn tears.

Princess    But what, but what? Come they to visit us?

Boyet    They do, they do; and are apparelled thus,
    Like Muscovites or Russians, as I guess.
    Their purpose is to parle, to court, and dance;
    And everyone his love-feat will advance
    Unto his several mistress, which they'll know
    By favours several which they did bestow.

Princess    And will they so? The gallants shall be tasked;
    For, ladies, we will every one be masked,
    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 Berowne take me for Rosaline.
    And change you favours too; so shall your loves
    Woo contrary, deceived by these removes.

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

Katharine    But in this changing what is your intent?

Princess    The effect of my intent is to cross theirs.
    They do it but in mockery-merriment,
    And mock for mock is only my intent.
    Their several counsels they unbosom shall
    To loves mistook, and so be mocked withal
    Upon the next occasion that we meet,
    With visages displayed, to talk and greet.

Rosaline    But shall we dance if they desire us to't?

Princess    No, to the death we will not move a foot;
    Nor to their penned speech render we no grace,
    But while 'tis spoke each turn away her face.

Boyet    Why, that contempt will kill the speaker's heart,
    And quite divorce his memory from his part.

Princess    Therefore 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 mocked, depart away with shame.
                                                            [Trumpets sound.

Boyet    The trumpet sounds. Be masked, the maskers come.

   Enter BLACKAMOORS with music, MOTH with a speech, the KING, BEROWNE,
       LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE, disguised as Russians, and visored.

Moth    [Reciting.] All hail, the richest beauties on the earth!

Boyet    [Aside.] Beauties no richer than rich taffeta.

Moth    [Reciting.] A holy parcel of the fairest dames
                                [The LADIES turn their backs to him.
    That ever turned their - backs - to mortal views!

Berowne    'Their eyes', villain, 'their eyes'.

Moth    [Reciting.] That ever turned their eyes to mortal views!
    Out-

Boyet    True, 'out' indeed.

Moth    [Reciting.] Out of your favours, heavenly spirits, vouchsafe
    Not to behold-

Berowne    'Once to behold', rogue.

Moth    [Reciting.] Once to behold with your sunbeamd eyes
    - with your sunbeamd eyes-

Boyet    They will not answer to that epithet;
    You were best call it 'daughter-beamd eyes'.

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

Berowne    Is this your perfectness? Be gone, you rogue!
                                                            [Exit MOTH.

Rosaline    What 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.

Boyet                        What would you with the princess?

Berowne    Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

Rosaline    What would they, say they?

Boyet    Nothing but peace and gentle visitation.

Rosaline    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
    To tread a measure with her on this grass.

Boyet    They say that they have measured many a mile
    To tread a measure with you on this grass.

Rosaline    It 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.

Boyet    If to come hither you have measured miles,
    And many miles, the princess bids you tell
    How many inches doth fill up one mile.

Berowne    Tell her we measure them by weary steps.

Boyet    She hears herself.

Rosaline                        How many weary steps
    Of many weary miles you have o'ergone,
    Are numbered in the travel of one mile?

Berowne    We number nothing that we spend for you.
    Our duty is so rich, so infinite,
    That we may do it still without account.
    Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face,
    That we, like savages, may worship it.

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

King    Blessd are clouds, to do as such clouds do!
    Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these thy stars, to shine,
    Those clouds removed, upon our watery eyne.

Rosaline    O vain petitioner, beg a greater matter;
    Thou now requests but moonshine in the water.

King    Then in our measure do but vouchsafe one change.
    Thou bidd'st me beg; this begging is not strange.

Rosaline    Play, music, then!
                                                            [Music plays.
                        Nay, you must do it soon.
    Not yet? No dance! Thus change I like the moon.

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

Rosaline    You took the moon at full, but now she's changed.

King    Yet still she is the moon, and I the man.
    The music plays; vouchsafe some motion to it.

Rosaline    Our ears vouchsafe it.

King                            But your legs should do it.

Rosaline    Since you are strangers, and come here by chance,
    We'll not be nice. Take hands; we will not dance.

King    Why take we hands then?

Rosaline                            Only to part friends.
    Curtsy, sweet hearts; and so the measure ends.

King    More measure of this measure; be not nice.

Rosaline    We can afford no more at such a price.

King    Price you yourselves? What buys your company?

Rosaline    Your absence only.

King                        That can never be.

Rosaline    Then cannot we be bought; and so, adieu;
    Twice to your visor, and half once to you!

King    If you deny to dance, lets hold more chat.

Rosaline    In private then.

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

Berowne    White-handed mistress, one sweet word with thee.

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

Berowne    Nay then, two treys, an if you grow so nice,
    Metheglin, wort, and malmsey - well run, dice!
    There's half a dozen sweets.

Princess                                Seventh sweet, adieu.
    Since you can cog, I'll play no more with you.

Berowne    One word in secret.

Princess                        Let it not be sweet.

Berowne    Thou grievest my gall.

Princess                            Gall? - bitter.

Berowne                                            Therefore meet.
                                                            [They converse apart.

Dumaine    Will you vouchsafe with me to change a word?

Maria    Name it.

Dumaine                Fair lady-

Maria                            Say you so? Fair lord-
    Take that for your fair lady.

Dumaine                                    Please it you,
    As much in private, and I'll bid adieu.
                                                            [They converse apart.

Katharine    What, was your visor made without a tongue?

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

Katharine    O, for your reason! Quickly, sir, I long.

Longaville    You have a double tongue within your mask,
    And would afford my speechless visor half.

Katharine    'Veal' quoth the Dutchman. Is not 'veal' a calf?

Longaville    A calf, fair lady!

Katharine                        No, a fair lord calf.

Longaville    Let's part the word.

Katharine                            No, I'll not be your half.
    Take all, and wean it; it may prove an ox.

Longaville    Look how you butt yourself in these sharp mocks.
    Will you give horns, chaste lady? Do not so.

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

Longaville    One word in private with you ere I die.

Katharine    Bleat softly then; the butcher hears you cry.
                                                            [They converse apart.

Boyet    The 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.

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

Berowne    By heaven, all dry-beaten with pure scoff!

King    Farewell, mad wenches! You have simple wits.
                                                            [Exeunt KING, LORDS
                                                            and BLACKAMOORS.
Princess    Twenty adieus, my frozen Muscovits.
    Are these the breed of wits so wondered at?

Boyet        Tapers they are, with your sweet breaths puffed out.

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

Princess        O poverty in wit, kingly-poor flout!
    Will they not, think you, hang themselves tonight?
        Or ever but in visors show their faces?
    This pert Berowne was out of countenance quite.

Rosaline        They were all in lamentable cases.
    The king was weeping-ripe for a good word.

Princess        Berowne did swear himself out of all suit.

Maria    Dumaine was at my service, and his sword.
        'No point' quoth I; my servant straight was mute.

Katharine    Lord Longaville said I came o'er his heart;
        And trow you what he called me?

Princess                                    'Qualm', perhaps.

Katharine    Yes, in good faith.

Princess                        Go, sickness as thou art!

Rosaline        Well, better wits have worn plain statute-caps.
    But will you hear? The king is my love sworn.

Princess        And quick Berowne hath plighted faith to me.

Katharine    And Longaville was for my service born.

Maria        Dumaine 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
    They will digest this harsh indignity.

Princess    Will they return?

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 this summer air.

Princess    How blow? How blow? Speak to be understood.

Boyet    Fair ladies masked are roses in their bud;
    Dismasked, their damask sweet commixture shown,
    Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown.

Princess    Avaunt, perplexity! What shall we do
    If they return in their own shapes to woo?

Rosaline    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
    Their shallow shows and prologue vilely penned,
    And their rough carriage so ridiculous,
    Should be presented at our tent to us.

Boyet    Ladies, withdraw - the gallants are at hand.

Princess    Whip to our tents, as roes run over land.
                                            [Exeunt PRINCESS, ROSALINE,
                                                            KATHARINE, and MARIA.

   Re-enter the KING, BEROWNE, LONGAVILLE, and DUMAINE, as themselves.

King    Fair sir, God save you! Where's 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.
                                                            [Exit.
Berowne    This fellow pecks up wit as pigeons pease,
    And utters it again when God doth please.
    He is wit's pedlar, 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 kissed 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 everyone,
    To show his teeth as white as whalsbone;
    And consciences that will not die in debt
    Pay him the due of 'honey-tongued Boyet'.

King    A blister on his sweet tongue, with my heart,
    That put Armado's page out of his part!

   Re-enter the PRINCESS, ushered by BOYET; ROSALINE, MARIA, KATHARINE.

Berowne    See where it comes! Behaviour, what wert thou
    Till this man showed thee? And what art thou now?

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

Princess        'Fair' in 'all hail' is foul, as I conceive.

King    Construe my speeches better, if you may.

Princess        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.

Princess    This field shall hold me, and so hold your vow:
        Nor God nor I delights in perjured men.

King    Rebuke me not for that which you provoke.
        The virtue of your eye must break my oath.

Princess    You 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, vowed with integrity.

King    O, you have lived in desolation here,
        Unseen, unvisited, much to our shame.

Princess    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?

Princess                            Ay, in truth, my lord;
    Trim gallants, full of courtship and of state.

Rosaline        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 were with four
    In Russian habit. Here they stayed an hour,
    And talked 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.

Berowne    This 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.

Rosaline    This proves you wise and rich, for in my eye-

Berowne    I am a fool, and full of poverty.

Rosaline    But that you take what doth to you belong,
    It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue.

Berowne    O, I am yours, and all that I possess.

Rosaline    All the fool mine?

Berowne                        I cannot give you less.

Rosaline    Which of the visors was it that you wore?

Berowne    Where? When? What visor? Why demand you this?

Rosaline    There, then, that visor; that superfluous case
    That hid the worse and showed the better face.

King    We were descried - they'll mock us now downright.

Dumaine    Let us confess, and turn it to a jest.

Princess    Amazed, my lord? Why looks your highness sad?

Rosaline    Help! Hold his brows! He'll swoon! Why look you pale?
    Seasick, I think, coming from Muscovy.

Berowne    Thus 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 penned,
        Nor to the motion of a schoolboy's tongue,
    Nor never come in visor 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 expressed
        In russet yeas and honest kersey noes.
    And, to begin, wench, - so God help me, law!-
    My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw.

Rosaline    Sans 'sans,' I pray you.

Berowne                            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;
    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.

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

Berowne    Our states are forfeit: seek not to undo us.

Rosaline    It is not so; for how can this be true,
    That you stand forfeit, being those that sue?

Berowne    Peace; for I will not have to do with you.

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

Berowne    Speak for yourselves; my wit is at an end.

King    Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude transgression
    Some fair excuse.

Princess                        The fairest is confession.
    Were not you here but even now disguised?

King    Madam, I was.

Princess                    And were you well advised?

King    I was, fair madam.

Princess                        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.

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

King    Upon mine honour, no.

Princess                            Peace, peace, forbear!
    Your oath once broke, you force not to forswear.

King    Despise me when I break this oath of mine.

Princess    I will; and therefore keep it. Rosaline,
    What did the Russian whisper in your ear?

Rosaline    Madam, 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.

Princess    God give thee joy of him! The noble lord
    Most honourably doth uphold his word.

King    What mean you, madam? By my life, my troth,
    I never swore this lady such an oath.

Rosaline    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.

Princess    Pardon me, sir, this jewel did she wear;
    And Lord Berowne, I thank him, is my dear.
    What, will you have me, or your pearl again?

Berowne    Neither 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, wooed but the sign of she.
    Now, to our perjury to add more terror,
    We are again forsworn, in will and error.
    Much upon this 'tis; [To BOYET.] and might not you
    Forestall our sport, to make us thus untrue?
    Do not you know my lady's foot by th' squire,
        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 allowed;
    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.

Boyet                                Full merrily
    Hath this brave manage, this career, been run.

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

                              Enter COSTARD.

    Welcome, pure wit! Thou partest a fair fray.

Costard    O Lord, sir, they would know
    Whether the three Worthies shall come in or no.

Berowne    What, are there but three?

Costard                            No, sir; but it is vara fine,
    For every one pursents three.

Berowne                                And three times thrice is nine.

Costard    Not 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-

Berowne                                                Is not nine.

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

Berowne    By Jove, I always took three threes for nine.

Costard    O Lord, sir, it were pity you should get your living by
    reck'ning, sir.

Berowne    How much is it?

Costard    O 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.

Berowne    Art thou one of the Worthies?

Costard    It pleased them to think me worthy of Pompey the Great. For
    mine own part, I know not the degree of the Worthy, but I am
    to stand for him.

Berowne    Go, bid them prepare.

Costard    We will turn it finely off, sir; we will take some care.
                                                            [Exit.
King    Berowne, they will shame us; - let them not approach.

Berowne    We are shame-proof, my lord; and 'tis some policy
    To have one show worse than the king's and his company.

King    I say they shall not come.

Princess    Nay, 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.

Berowne    A right description of our sport, my lord.

                              Enter ARMADO.

Armado    Anointed, I implore so much expense of thy royal sweet breath
    as will utter a brace of words.
                             [ARMADO converses apart with the KING.

Princess    Doth this man serve God?

Berowne    Why ask you?

Princess    A' speaks not like a man of God his making.

Armado    [Giving the King a paper.] 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, to fortuna de la guerra. I wish you the peace of
    mind, most royal couplement!
                                                            [Exit.

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
    Maccabaeus.
    [Reads.]
        And if these four Worthies in their first show thrive,
        These four will change habits and present the other five.

Berowne    There is five in the first show.

King    You are deceived, 'tis not so.

Berowne    The 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.

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

                        Enter COSTARD for Pompey.

Costard    "I Pompey am"-

Berowne                    You lie, you are not he.

Costard    "I Pompey am"-

Boyet                    With leopard's head on knee.

Berowne    Well said, old mocker. I must needs be friends with thee.

Costard    "I Pompey am, Pompey surnamed the Big"-

Dumaine    The Great.

Costard    It 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.

Princess    Great thanks, great Pompey.

Costard    'Tis not so much worth; but I hope I was perfect. I made a
    little fault in 'Great'.

Berowne    My hat to a halfpenny Pompey proves the best Worthy.

                    Enter SIR NATHANIEL for Alexander.

Nathaniel    "When 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."

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

Berowne    Your nose smells 'no' in this, most tender-smelling knight.

Princess    The conqueror is dismayed. Proceed, good Alexander.

Nathaniel    "When in the world I lived, I was the world's commander"-

Boyet    Most true, 'tis right, you were so, Alisander.

Berowne    Pompey the Great!

Costard    Your servant, and Costard.

Berowne    Take away the conqueror, take away Alisander.

Costard    [To 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 pole-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.
                                                    [SIR 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.

Princess    Stand aside, good Pompey.

            Enter HOLOFERNES for Judas, and MOTH for Hercules.

Holofernes    "Great Hercules is presented by this imp,
        Whose club killed Cerberus, that three-headed canus,
    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"-

Dumaine    A Judas!

Holofernes    Not Iscariot, sir.
    "Judas I am, ycleped Maccabaeus."

Dumaine    Judas Maccabaeus clipped is plain Judas.

Berowne    A kissing traitor. How art thou proved Judas?

Holofernes    "Judas I am"-

Dumaine    The more shame for you, Judas.

Holofernes    What mean you, sir?

Boyet    To make Judas hang himself.

Holofernes    Begin, sir; you are my elder.

Berowne    Well followed: Judas was hanged on an elder.

Holofernes    I will not be put out of countenance.

Berowne    Because thou hast no face.

Holofernes    What is this?

Boyet    A cittern-head.

Dumaine    The head of a bodkin.

Berowne    A death's face in a ring.

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

Boyet    The pommel of Caesar's falchion.

Dumaine    The carved-bone face on a flask.

Berowne    Saint George's half-cheek in a brooch.

Dumaine    Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

Berowne    Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer. And now forward,
    for we have put thee in countenance.

Holofernes    You have put me out of countenance.

Berowne    False; we have given thee faces.

Holofernes    But you have outfaced them all.

Berowne    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?

Dumaine    For the latter end of his name.

Berowne    For the ass to the Jude? Give it him - Jud-as, away!

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

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

Princess    Alas, poor Maccabaeus, how hath he been baited!

                         Enter ARMADO for Hector.

Berowne    Hide thy head, Achilles; here comes Hector in arms.

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

King    Hector was but a Trojan in respect of this.

Boyet    But is this Hector?

King    I think Hector was not so clean-timbered.

Longaville    His leg is too big for Hector's.

Dumaine    More calf, certain.

Boyet    No, he is best indued in the small.

Berowne    This cannot be Hector.

Dumaine    He's a god or a painter, for he makes faces.

Armado    "The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty,
    Gave Hector a gift"-

Dumaine    A gilt nutmeg.

Berowne    A lemon.

Longaville    Stuck with cloves.

Dumaine    No, cloven.

Armado    Peace!
    "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"-

Dumaine                        That mint.

Longaville                                    That columbine.

Armado    Sweet Lord Longaville, rein thy tongue.

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

Dumaine    Ay, and Hector's a greyhound.

Armado    The sweet warman 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 PRINCESS.]
    Sweet royalty, bestow on me the sense of hearing.
                                                [BEROWNE steps forth, and
                                                    talks apart to COSTARD.

Princess    Speak, brave Hector, we are much delighted.

Armado    I do adore thy sweet grace's slipper.

Boyet    Loves her by the foot.

Dumaine    He may not by the yard.

Armado    "This Hector far surmounted Hannibal;
    The party is gone"-

Costard    Fellow Hector, she is gone; she is two months on her way.

Armado    What meanest thou?

Costard    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.

Armado    Dost thou infamonize me among potentates? Thou shalt die.

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

Dumaine    Most rare Pompey!

Boyet    Renowned Pompey!

Berowne    Greater than great: - great, great, great Pompey! Pompey the
    Huge!

Dumaine    Hector trembles.

Berowne    Pompey is moved. More Ates, more Ates! Stir them on, stir
    them on!

Dumaine    Hector will challenge him.

Berowne    Ay, if 'a have no more man's blood in his belly than will sup
    a flea.

Armado    By the north pole, I do challenge thee.

Costard    I 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.

Dumaine    Room for the incensed Worthies!

Costard    I'll do it in my shirt.

Dumaine    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.

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

Dumaine    You may not deny it; Pompey hath made the challenge.

Armado    Sweet bloods, I both may and will.

Berowne    What reason have you for't?

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

Boyet    True, 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.

                   Enter a messenger, Monsieur MARCAD.

Marcad    God save you, madam!

Princess                            Welcome, Marcad,
    But that thou interrupt'st our merriment.

Marcad    I am sorry, madam, for the news I bring
    Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father-

Princess    Dead, for my life!

Marcad                        Even so: - my tale is told.

Berowne    Worthies, away! The scene begins to cloud.

Armado    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 soldier.
                                                            [Exeunt WORTHIES.
King    How fares your majesty?

Princess    Boyet, prepare. I will away tonight.

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

Princess    Prepare, 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 overboldly we have borne ourselves
    In the converse of breath - your gentleness
    Was guilty of it. Farewell, worthy lord!
    A heavy heart bears not a humble tongue.
    Excuse me so, coming too short of thanks
    For my great suit so easily obtained.

King    The 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 jostle 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.

Princess    I understand you not. My griefs are double.

Berowne    Honest plain words best pierce the ear of grief;
    And by these badges understand the king.
    For your fair sakes have we neglected time,
    Played foul play with our oaths. Your beauty, ladies,
    Hath much deformed us, fashioning our humours
    Even to the opposd end of our intents;
    And what in us hath seemed ridiculous-
    As love is full of unbefitting strains,
    All wanton as a child, skipping and vain;
    Formed 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.

Princess    We 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.

Dumaine    Our letters, madam, showed much more than jest.

Longaville    So did our looks.

Rosaline                        We did not quote them so.

King    Now, at the latest minute of the hour,
    Grant us your loves.

Princess                            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:
    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.

King    If 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 hermit then: my heart is in thy breast.

Dumaine    But what to me, my love? But what to me?
    A wife?

Katharine            A beard, fair health, and honesty;
    With threefold love I wish you all these three.

Dumaine    O, shall I say 'I thank you, gentle wife'?

Katharine    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.

Dumaine    I'll serve thee true and faithfully till then.

Katharine    Yet swear not, lest ye be forsworn again.

Longaville    What says Maria?

Maria                        At the twelvemonth's end
    I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend.

Longaville    I'll stay with patience; but the time is long.

Maria    The liker you; few taller are so young.

Berowne    Studies 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.

Rosaline    Oft have I heard of you, my Lord Berowne,
    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 paind impotent to smile.

Berowne    To move wild laughter in the throat of death?
    It cannot be; it is impossible:
    Mirth cannot move a soul in agony.

Rosaline    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
    Of him that hears it, never in the tongue
    Of him that makes it: - then, if sickly ears
    Deafed with the clamours of their own dear groans
    Will hear your idle scorns, continue them,
    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.

Berowne    A twelvemonth? Well, befall what will befall,
    I'll jest a twelvemonth in a hospital.

Princess    [To the KING.] Ay, sweet my lord, and so I take my leave.

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

Berowne    Our wooing doth not end like an old play:
    Jack hath not Jill. These ladies' courtesy
    Might well have made our sport a comedy.

King    Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth and a day,
    And then 'twill end.

Berowne                        That's too long for a play.

                             Re-enter ARMADO.

Armado    Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me-

Princess    Was not that Hector?

Dumaine    The worthy knight of Troy.

Armado    I 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 year. 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.

King    Call them forth quickly; we will do so.

Armado    Holla, approach!

                                Enter ALL.

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

                                         SONG.

Spring            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 nipped, and ways be foul,
            Then nightly sings the staring owl:
                    'Tu-who!
            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-who!
            Tu-whit, Tu-who!' - a merry note,
            While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Armado    The words of Mercury are harsh after the songs of Apollo. You
    that way, we this way.
                                                            [Exeunt.